


Little Changes

by flameofarcana



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, KisaIta - Freeform, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-04-29 17:13:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 131,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5135942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flameofarcana/pseuds/flameofarcana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you meet people in pretty unpredictable ways. Sometimes it's the best thing to ever happen to you. KisaIta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly not happy with the beginning of this but I'm even less happy with rewriting it for the umpteenth time. I'm shit at writing first meetings, but oh well. 
> 
> I tried to translate the personalities from the manga as best as I saw fit for a modern setting, so I hope nothing seems too off. Kisame is especially different but hey, he didn't grow up all messed up and murderous, right? I'm filing it under 'artistic license.'
> 
> I originally got the idea from an OTP prompt on tumblr where person A rescues person B from someone who won't leave them alone at a bar. Supposed to be a oneshot for KisaIta week on Tumblr, it evolved and here we are.
> 
> Anywho, here's chapter one.

Itachi pressed the slowly warming rim of the beer bottle to his lips. The pounding thrum of a song beating from the speakers above dance floor vibrated in his eardrums. His eyes glanced over every now and again to see Sasuke dancing with Suigetsu, or Karin, or Naruto. Suigetsu bounced over to the bar more than to grab another drink.

Somewhere between a song by The Weeknd (Sasuke was slowly teaching him how to recognize popular artists) and something with enough bass to make his ears sore, a body pressed up against him, arm snaking around his waist. He stiffened instantly, head snapping around to the unwelcomed guest.

“Hey, sweet thing,” a man murmured at his hear. He smelled of alcohol and arrogance, Itachi thought. He grinned at Itachi. “What’s a gorgeous thing like you doing sitting all alone?”

Itachi frowned, unsuccessfully trying to shrug the arm off of him. “I’m not a ‘thing,’ and I’m sitting alone by choice. Please go.” He grabbed the man’s forearm, muscles rattling at the invasion of space, and began to pry it off of him.

“Don’t be like that, sweetcheeks. There’s no fun in being alone at a bar.”

“There’s plenty. Please leave.”

The man slid his arm down Itachi’s waist and—

“ _Please_ do not touch me,” Itachi snapped, grabbing the man’s wrist and holding it away from him.

“Come on, don’t be like that, baby. I just want to show you a good time.”

“I am not interested.” Itachi replied, patiently, calmly.  

“You don’t even know me, love.”

Exactly?

“How about I take you out on the dance floor and show you a good time?” The leer in his voice was making Itachi frown.

“I’m not looking for your company,” Itachi insisted.

The other man laughed. “Only because you haven’t—”

“Sorry I’m late, babe,” a voice suddenly said to the right of him. Itachi felt a large hand grip his shoulder. Looking up he saw someone _tower_ over him, a very…sharky grin on his face. “Who’s this?”

Ah.

The other man stuttered for a second. “Uhh, wait a second…is he your...?” He took a step back. “Shit man, he didn’t tell me he was taken, I didn’t know he was yours, I wouldn’t have—”

“Wouldn’t have what? Is there something I should be worried about?” The other asked, a sharp edge of threat sheathed behind the grin in his voice.

“Uhh, no absolutely not,” he replied, “nothing like that, we’re all good here.”

“Yeah? Fantastic. Now, if you would excuse us…?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the guy mumbled, disappearing to the other end of the bar. Itachi blinked after him. He turned back to the other, taller man, whose hand slipped from Itachi’s shoulder to cross his very broad chest.

“He wasn’t too much of a bother, was he?” The man asked, still staring after their departing company.

Itachi shook his head. “No, just a pest.” He glanced up under his eyelashes. “Thanks for the help, I guess.”

“No problem. That dick head is a regular over here, likes to harass all the pretty ones.”

Itachi’s head upturned a little at the ‘pretty’ comment, suppressing a small huff. “Was that a directed compliment, Mr…?

“Kisame. Call me Kisame.” The man’s eyes and mouth both maintained their grin. “May I sit?” He asked, gesturing to the empty bar stool next to Itachi.

“I suppose I the least owe my knight in shining armor is my company,” Itachi replied with a joking lilt to his voice, taking a short swig of beer and pushing his long hair off of his shoulder. He swiveled to face Kisame, leaning one elbow against the dark wood of the bar top, eyes scanning his face. “My name is Itachi,” he tacked on.

“It’s my pleasure,” Kisame replied, extending an arm. Itachi took his hand, feeling a silent laugh vibrate through the muscles roping down Kisame’s arms. He blinked for a moment at how small and pale his hand looked in the others.

“So is this what you do around here?” Itachi asked, letting his hand slip back down onto his lap. “Save people from bar rats?”

“No,” Kisame laughed, “I often meet up with my cousin here after work. Something to do, ya know? It gets old seeing all the slime bags who can’t take no for an answer. Sometimes it’s fun to scare em a little, put em in their place. ‘Sides, you’re too gentle with them it looks, figured you could use some help.”

“Too gentle?” Itachi asked, eyebrow arching up.

“Yeah. You gotta tell people like that to fuck off, straight and simple. They won’t leave if you’re so nice, they’ll think you’re stringing them along. They’ll think they have a chance.”

Itachi wrinkled his nose. Well, he didn’t favor being rude. “I thought I was being pretty blunt.”

Kisame snorted. “You’d be surprised how persistent some people can be.”

He cocked his head to the side, staring at his new companion for a moment. “Well, at least now you’re here,” he joked slightly, “I’m sure no one will dare approach me with the biggest guy in the bar holding my attention.”

“How’d you know I was the biggest one here?” Kisame asked, eyes bright with a joke Itachi didn’t quite get.

“What do you mean, you’re clearly—” Itachi snapped his mouth shut, the double innuendo finally clicking. “Oh.”

Kisame laughed. “Did I scare you off?”

Itachi’s eyes rolled over the tribal looking tattoos crawling up past Kisame’s shirt to lick at the base of his neck and spill down his arm on one side, the shark teeth and wood carved necklaces laying against his dark chest, the almost gill marks cutting across his distinct cheekbones. More tattoos perhaps? Probably. He had piercing all up one of his ears, a single bone decorated with intricate, shallow carvings pushed through the other. Through the dim lights of the bar, his hair looked to be blue.

No, definitely not scared. He pressed his beer to his lips again. “No, not scared.”

Kisame chuckled, tapping the bar to get the tender’s attention. “How long have you been nursing that beer? That’s not even a very good beer.”

Itachi was sure it wasn’t a good idea to admit he didn’t really know jack about what was considered ‘good’ alcohol. Beer tasted like carbonated street water, tequila burned his throat like gasoline, and he was sure that vodka was literally nail polish remover. “I think its fine.”

 “Have you ever had anything from Hangar 24?” Kisame asked. 

Itachi swirled his bottle. “How offended will you be if I answer no?”

Kisame laughed, watching as the bar tender came over. “Here’s an idea: why don’t I buy you a better drink?”

“I’m going to have to pass,” Itachi replied, tilting his bottle back and forth, letting his stool swivel slightly. “I’m the designated driver, so I have to watch what I drink. Hence the one beer.”

“Damn shame,” Kisame replied. He ordered something Itachi had never heard of before. “I can’t stand being in a bar without a drink in my hand.”

Itachi gave a shrug. “I don’t mind,” he answered lightly. “I’m not the biggest drinker.”

“What’s your poison?” Kisame asked, receiving the glass the bartender slid to him.

“Wine?” Itachi guessed.

Kisame snorted as he took a sip. “Is that a question?”

“It’s really the only thing I care for. Like I said, I don’t drink a lot.”

The song changed, becoming louder and more upbeat. Kisame leaned forward and scooted closer so they wouldn’t have to yell. “I guess the only other reason to go to a club if not to drink is to find good company, right?”

Itachi let his lips quirk, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. “Is that so?”

Kisame grinned. “So how come you got stuck with the keys?”

“Mm. My younger brother loves to come out with his friends, I drive them all home.”

He snorted. “That’s one way to spend your Saturday nights.”

“I don’t really mind, actually. He’s young and reckless, why not let him enjoy his party years under enough supervision that I know he won’t get hurt.”

“Now _that’s_ the kind of logic I can stand behind.”

Itachi rolled his eyes, suppressing a smile, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Are you from around here?” Kisame asked, that grin never for a second fading from his eyes and lips. He looked at Itachi in a way that somewhat unsettled him; it was intent, and searching. Itachi bit his lip because— _damn_ Kisame’s eyes were hypnotizing.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’ve lived out here for a while now.”

“So how often do you come here?” Kisame asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

“I don’t particularly make a scene out of myself,” Itachi murmured above the thumping base, “so I don’t see any reason why you would be able to pick me out. But—not often. Only if Sasuke wants to come.”

Kisame’s eyes snapped from his drink to Itachi’s face, face going strangely serious for a moment. “Wait, did you just say Sasuke?”

Itachi blinked, retracting into himself somewhat. “Why.” There was a wary edge to his voice.

“Sasuke as in… _duckbutt_?” Kisame leaned forward. “Is that…is _that_ your little brother?”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Sasuke? Uchiha?”

Itachi tilted his head, brows furrowed. “How do you know my younger brother?”

“You’re shittin’ me!” Kisame exclaimed. “How do I know him? My dumbass baby cousin is practically surgically attached to his side!”

Itachi blinked again. “…Suigetsu?”

Kisame laughed. “Holy shit, talk about a small world.”

“Wait,” Itachi paused, still reeling slightly. “You’re cousins with Suigetsu? So you know Sasuke?”

“And Karin, and Naruto, and Juugo.” The grin was even stronger, now. “Fuck, I a little better than know em. Suigetsu takes the emergency house key of mine that he has as an ‘open invitation.’”

Itachi leaned back, and looked up into Kisame’s eyes. “Then—how have I never met you?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, but I’m pissed that we haven’t.”

And Itachi had no words.

“I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots when you mentioned your name. Shit, Sasuke never _shuts up_ about you.” Kisame rubbed a hand through his hair. “Itachi, duh, of course! Itachi!”

Itachi gave a mystified smile about why Kisame seemed so excited. And why did he say his _name_ like that? “Good to meet you, too,” he responded. Tilting his head, he asked, “What exactly does Sasuke say about me, if he ‘never shuts up about me?’”

Kisame shrugged. “Nothing, really, that’s what’s so funny. It’s just ‘Itachi this’ and ‘Itachi that.’ Then again, I’ve only been around him a couple of times, at parties.”

“Parties,” Itachi repeated, one eyebrow raising.

Kisame laughed. “And by parties, I of course mean Bible Studies.” He winked.

Itachi hid a smile against the rim of his beer bottle. “Of course.”

Kisame stared at him for a moment. He was grinning, ocean eyes stormy with lighthearted, good natured humor and intensity alike.

His gaze lingered a second longer than Itachi was expecting, turned a little murkier. “Is something the matter?”

The look quickly disappeared from Kisame’s eyes, hidden behind that grin of his. “Nothing, nothing. I was just thinking that we have some stuff in common, don’t we?”

Itachi held Kisame’s gaze until his eyes turned into something dark and stormy. “Looks like it.” And then he turned back to his beer and took another swig, because those eyes, and that grin—they were messing with his head.

“Seriously man, sipping on one beer over, I don’t know, however the fuck long you’ve been, here isn’t going to impair your driving. Just order another one.”

Itachi stared down at the bottle. “Honestly, I’m only drinking so I have something to do,” he replied, twisting his mouth to one side.

“Then…” Kisame started, trailing off a little, eyeing him sharply, “do you want to dance?”

Itachi paused, eyes involuntarily flicking over to the dancefloor. “Dance?”

“To give you something else to do. Something that you might like a little more.” His voice was hopeful, with an edge of something Itachi couldn’t quite place.

Itachi pursed his lips. “I haven’t been dancing in quite a long time.”

“Now’s a time as good as any to get back into it then, right?” And the winning grin was back.

Itachi looked down into the bottle, at the liquid sloshing around at the bottom. “I think I might need to be a bit more influenced to go make a fool out of myself in public.” He looked up. “I doubt one slowly sipped beer will do the trick.”

“Ah, alright.” Kisame dropped it, resting his head on his palm, elbow on the bar top.

Itachi paused, biting the inside of his cheek. “Maybe another time,” he said around a clear of his throat, “when I’m not responsible for transportation.”

Risky, making comments like that.

No one had flirted with him this well in ages, though. Itachi could play back.

It seemed to work, simple a comment it was. Kisame’s eyes lit up and his grin flashed back to full capacity. “Another time?” His voice was playful. Warm. Threaded with implications that Itachi could barely keep track of.

Itachi held the beer bottle to his lips. “Another time,” he repeated, somewhat tight lipped.

Kisame stretched out, folding his arms behind his head, and Itachi definitely did not notice the way his muscles wrapped around his arms and pushed out under his skin.

“Nii-san!” came a voice.

Well, what a welcomed distraction.

He spun around in the stool, smiling at his tipsy brother who came tumbling into his lap. “Sasuke?” He chuckled, a surprised note to his voice.

“Nii-sannnn,” Sasuke whined, “I don’t know what the fuck is going on”

“Language,” Itachi reminded with a hum.

Sasuke wrinkled his face, trying to crawl into his big brother’s lap. “Shut up.”

“How rude. How much have you had to drink, little brother?”

A grumble.

“Speak clearly.”

“Not that much, okay!” Sasuke exclaimed, throwing his hands up and nearly falling down.

“Are you sure?” Itachi clarified, eyes flashing to Kisame, who was currently shaking with silent laughter. “You’re a bigger lightweight than me; I thought Suigetsu promised not to get you wasted.”

Kisame snorted at that, and Itachi sent him a glare.

“I don’t remember. And I am _not_ a worse drunk than you!” Sasuke insisted. “Don’t insult me!” Muttering, then, “ _no one_ is a worse drunk than you.”

Itachi hummed, pushing hair out of Sasuke’s face. “What’s wrong with you, Little Brother?”

Sasuke stared at the ground. “Naruto kissed me.”

Itachi smiled. “Did he now?” How utterly unforeseeable.

“Yes.” Sasuke huffed, finding himself too big to sit on his brother anymore, not like when he was a kid and would climb into Itachi’s lap and arms every time he had even the smallest of problems. “We were just dancing—all of us—and then Naruto kind of singled me out and then next thing I know—stop laughing at me!” His head snapped over to Kisame. “You too! Who the fuck even are you?”

“You don’t remember me? I’m hurt,” Kisame jested.

Itachi sent him a look. “Sasuke, calm down.”

“I can’t!” Sasuke looked down. “I don’t want to lose him,” he whispered very quietly. “But—”

“But you’re drunk and neither of you are sober enough to be in this situation,” Itachi completed. “So maybe the two of you should call it quits for tonight.”

“Yeah,” Sasuke muttered, slumping away. “Yeah….”

“Yo, Sasuke!” another voice sounded. Suigetsu appeared, grinning.

Itachi had been seeing a lot of that type of grin. “Suigetsu, how is everyone feeling? I think maybe Sasuke and Naruto have had enough.”

“Yeahhhh, Naruto is freaking the _fuck_ out and—holy shit, Kisame!”

Kisame waved from his place leaning against the bar. “’Sup.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I came here to chill with Mangetsu, but he ended up meeting some other guy who could talk about weaponry with, and I,” Kisame gestured to Itachi, who gave him a little look, “ended up meeting…Itachi.”

 _Why was Kisame saying his name like that_.

“Shit, probably should have introduced you guys sooner. Uh, Kisame Itachi, Itachi, Kisame!” He swung his arms happily. “Now that we got that out of the way, Naruto is an emotional wreck. Also, some guy went to far with Karin and Juugo _might_ have started a fight over it so—”

“Good god,” Itachi muttered. He gently pushed Sasuke out of his lap, offering a placated smile for the glare he got from it. “Go and get everyone together, I’ll get the car, okay?” Well, Suigetsu’s car.

Sasuke groaned, but turned back towards the dancefloor anyways, Suigetsu jumping on him and hollering. “Hurry, before we get kicked out!” was lost in the baseline as they disappeared into crowd.

Itachi let out a breath and turned back towards the bar.

“Have fun dealing with that when you get home,” Kisame commented with a chuckle.

“Thanks for the support.” Itachi sighed. “It was inevitable, really. Ever since the two of them met, there’s been this strange tension. That tension has…evolved in the past couple of months.” Pulled a couple of crumpled bills out of his jean pocket to tip the bartender. “As you may be able to tell.”

Kisame chuckled. He eyed Itachi’s movements for a second, flicking between the money and Itachi’s face. “I guess this is goodbye?” Kisame asked.

Itachi slid off of the stool, padding his pant pockets for his wallet and keys.

“It was great talking to you,” Kisame said again, clearly a hint of disappointment to his voice. He downed the rest of his drink.

Itachi turned to him, teeth clamped around the inside of his lip. He leaned forward, abruptly, and snagged Kisame’s phone off of the bar top.

“What are you doing?” Kisame laughed.

Itachi ignored him, flicking his phone unlocked and putting his number into the contacts. He locked it quickly and tossed it back to Kisame. He paused, staring at Kisame for a moment. “It was great talking to you,” he echoed.

Kisame’s eyes were bright, an open, slightly confused smile on his face. “What was that?”

Itachi looked at him for a second. “If you ever want to take me up on that ‘next time’,” he replied.

Kisame _lit up_ and he quickly glanced between his phone and Itachi, but Itachi was already making his way to the door.

Suigestu winked at him knowingly as he exited the bar, tugging a very emotional Sasuke behind him.

_

Three days later found Itachi at his and Sasuke’s kitchen table early in the morning, bills and receipts spread out in front of him, a pen in between his teeth, and a cooling mug of coffee to his left. He had black framed glasses resting on his nose, and his hair was tied up in a bun atop his head, messy and straggling from his sleep.

Sasuke stumbled down the hallway, wayward nest of black stuck to his head and face as an excuse for hair. He took a seat next to his brother, head immediately hitting the table. “I feel like shit.”

“I think you may have lied about what you had to drink the other night,” Itachi hummed, taking his pen from his mouth and tapping it against the table, “if you’re still feeling hung over.”

Sasuke grumbled something against the wood, something Itachi guessed was snarky. “It’s not from Saturday night.” After a moment, he sighed, “It’s because of Naruto. What do I do?”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s been avoiding me. He doesn’t text me anymore. He won’t talk to me when we hang out as a group. He avoids me on campus. And now I don’t know if…that’s it and we aren’t…friends at all anymore?” Itachi’s heart twanged at the pain in Sasuke’s voice.  “Or if he only wants to date me, and friendship isn’t even an option now. Fuck, I don’t even know if he wants to date me.” He knocked his forehead against the wood again.

Itachi glanced up from the billing. He paused. “Sasuke…you and Naruto belong in each other’s lives. You both know that, including Naruto. How many times a day do you call him a dense idiot? He’s scared; you both are. It’s never that pleasant to develop feeling for a friend, because of all the strings.” He took a sip from his mug. “If you only want to be friends, I know the two of you will be able to make it work.”

“But he was so upset the other night,” he muttered.

“Freaking out and running away isn’t the gentlest of rejections,” Itachi replied easily, folding a stack of receipts into a paperclip. “I’m sure he’s only worried about your friendship.”

“I was just surprised,” he muttered. “And if he’s so worried about our friendship, why won’t he even look at me?!”

Itachi hummed. “You haven’t made any effort to talk to him, yes? He probably thinks you’re avoiding him just as much as you think he is.”

A few seconds went by as Sasuke thought. “What if I…do like him that way?”

Itachi smiled. “I think you’re covered in that department.”

Sasuke lifted his head. “Okay, but. What if we… _date_ , but then it doesn’t work out, and then we can’t even be friends. Is it worth it?”

Itachi hummed. “I can’t answer that for you, baby brother.”

Sasuke glared at the table. “You’re so unhelpful.”

“Which is why you ask me for my advice on everything you do,” Itachi replied, taking another long drink of coffee, eyes roaming over numbers.

Sasuke sighed, heading rolling back to the ceiling. “I don’t know what to do.”

He looked back up and smiled, reaching over to ruffle Sasuke’s hair. “My best advice would be to talk to him. If you are open to different type of relationship, talk out your concerns. But do so after class. Because you are going to be late if you don’t hurry up.” He began to fill his binder with the bills and papers.

“But I feel like shit,” he whined. “I don’t want to go.”

Itachi chuckled. “Of course you don’t.”

Sasuke listened absently to the tick of the clock for a few seconds. “Who were you talking to the other night? I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Kisame? He said he’s met you before.”

Sasuke bumped his chin on the table. “Oh, yeah. Suigetsu’s older, giant cousin.” Sasuke looked at Itachi from the corner of his eye. “What did he want?”

“He didn’t ‘want’ anything.”

Sasuke pursed his lips. “Guys always want something from you.”

Itachi sighed. “That was almost two years ago, Sasuke…”

“I know. Doesn’t change the fact that it happened.”

Itachi picked his accounting book up, standing from the chair. “Don’t worry so much about the past; I’ve learned from my mistakes. I’m going to go shower and get ready for work, there’s some omelet in the fridge if you want to eat before you leave.”

Sasuke muttered something again.

At 9:30 Itachi was showered and dressed, minimal housework done, room cleaned. The middle schooler he had a tutor appointment with had to cancel last minute; and since he was planning on using his tip money to buy groceries for Sasuke’s and his dinner on the way home, he still had time before he needed to leave for work. With nothing else to do, he laid back in bed with a good book, treating himself to reading since he had already gotten so much done and felt more or less relaxed about their finances. He was flipping through chapter three when his phone buzzed on his nightstand. It was a number he didn’t recognize, from the city over. He almost ignored it, since he didn’t feel like dealing with telemarketers or solicitors, but answered it anyways.

 “Hello?” he answered, eyes skimming the page.

“Ah, hey. Itachi? It’s Kisame.”

Itachi blinked. “Kisame,” he repeated, surprised. He…really didn’t think that Kisame would follow up on that ‘next time.’ “Hey.” He bit his lip, closing the book and scooting up to lean against the headboard. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“I was actually calling you ask if you want to go to dinner with me tonight.”

Itachi paused, staring at the bedspread. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

A beat. “That’s alright, isn’t it?” He sounded a little worried. “I mean, you gave your number, I figured—”

“Yes,” Itachi answered immediately recovering, from the initial shock. “No, of course, that’s fine. Where did you have in mind?”

“There’s a great little circle of restaurants over in Hillside, and—uh—you’re Japanese right?”

Itachi cocked his head. “How observant of you.”

“Well, I heard your brother call you ‘Nii-san’ over at the bar, and—I just ended up asking Suigetsu,” he confessed with an awkward chuckle.

“Doing research for this date, are you?” Itachi let a smile tilt the side of his lips.

Kisame gave another chuckle. “Maybe. There’s this great sushi place I go to as often as I can. Does that sound good to you?”

Itachi ran a hand through his hair, pushing some of it behind his ear, and replied, “Yeah, that sounds fine.”

“Great, great,” Kisame sounded hopeful. “When’s the best time for me to come pick you up?”

“Don’t worry about that, I can drive myself.” Or, rather, take the bus—since he didn’t own a car, and all.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely, it’s no trouble at all.”

“Okay, sure. The place is called Ocean Drum, it’s near the theater. I can send you the address?”

“I’ll be able to find it easily,” Itachi assured. “Can I meet you at seven?”

“That sounds great,” Kisame said, and it sounded like he meant it. “I’ll see you then, Itachi.”

It wasn’t until he hung up the phone that the actual conversation sunk in.

He was going on a date.

A _date._

He hadn’t been on a date since…was it Luke? The guy from the movie house? It had been so long, he could barely remember. He hadn’t had a boyfriend for almost two years, and only a handful of dead end dates since.

He wasn’t sure he even knew what to _do_ on a date anymore.

He returned to his book, only a slight fluttering in his stomach.

He texted Sasuke, later, that he would be on his own for dinner, but he would leave money on the table if he needed it, and that there was pasta sauce in the fridge and some meatballs in the freezer, as well as bread and fruit. Not a lot, but enough for one meal. He apologized for not being able to be home for dinner, but Sasuke assured him it would be fine and reminded him to be safe and kick the guy to the curb if he was shady. A stream of dirty jokes and innuendos followed, so Itachi assumed that Suigetsu had stolen his phone.

The time to leave for work came quickly enough, but when he finally got on the familiar bus route he was grateful. Work was the same pattern that gave his hands and mind something to focus on.

He clocked out at 6, and quickly moved to the bathroom to change and brush his hair out. He put his bag of work clothes and apron in one of the little lockers in the back; he could come early and change tomorrow.

The bus stop was a short walk from the pho restaurant he worked at. He subtly counted his tip money in the bus, brain whirring through numbers. He would be able to buy dinner for himself and still put some groceries in the fridge and pantry for Sasuke. He could stop by the market on the way home, since the date most likely wouldn’t go that long, and hopefully not have to skimp on anything. _That_ was a good feeling.

He had to walk quickly to the restaurant, since the bus stopped about two blocks away. He was only five minutes late, but Kisame was already there with a table off to the side, where it was less crowded. The waiters greeted him with a chorus of ‘Irasshaimase!’ as the bell chimed daintily above his head. He immediately made his way to Kisame—who was grinning. Of course.

“Hey, glad you could make it,” he said, looking at Itachi appreciatively.

“I’m glad I could come,” he responded softly, taking a seat.

“I’m curious—do you at all speak Japanese?” Kisame asked.

“Fluently,” Itachi nodded.

“I’ve always wondered, what is it they always say right when you walk into a sushi place?”

“Oh—irasshaimase?” Itachi picked up the menu, glancing over the pictures of the sushi rolls. “It’s just a greeting, kind of like ‘welcome to the shop.’”

“Huh, good to know.” Kisame picked up his menu as well. “You speak English and Japanese fluently? Damn.”

“Yes, as well as French, and some Mandarin,” he said easily, glossing over the menu. Expensive. “I can also communicate through American Sign Language.”

“You say that like it’s no big deal, holy shit, four and a half languages?”

“I wouldn’t quite say ‘and a half.’ I’m quite rusty in Mandarin,” Itachi muttered absently. If he was going to split the bill, he would have to order really modestly. He mentally counted through his tip money again. He didn’t want to spend that much of it, and definitely not all. He internally groaned.

“I know what that look means,” Kisame commented.

Itachi’s head snapped up. “Huh?” He blinked.

“You’re looking at the prices of everything.”

Itachi stiffened from head to toe.

“I don’t want you to worry about that; I called you out here, I don’t care what you order, so please don’t avoid something you would normally like just because I’m paying.”

“Since when were you paying? We’re splitting the bill.”

Kisame grinned. “No, I’m treating you.”

“Kisame—”

“I insist. When I ask people out, I pay for the date. That’s my rule.”

Itachi floundered for a moment. “But—”

“I _insist_.”

Itachi stared at the menu. “…fine. But the next date, we are absolutely splitting the cost.”

Kisame’s whole visage brightened like it had been set on fire. “The next date? You already want another date?”

Itachi took a moment to examine just how far into his throat he had just jammed his own foot.

Kisame’s eyes were knowing. “ _So,_ what kind of sushi do you like?” He said with an undertone of a laugh, graciously changing the subject.

Itachi lifted his wrist to press a smile into his own skin. “Uh…whatever,” he replied with an absent wave. “I’m honestly not picky.” Came with perpetually empty pockets.

 “Well, good, I won’t disgust you no matter what I order,” Kisame conceded with a grin.

Itachi looked up at him for a moment. “I’m flattered and all that you asked me out, but, may I be blunt, Kisame?”

“Please do; honesty is the best policy after all,” Kisame encouraged, tapping the menu with a ringed finger. That grin was back.

Itachi snorted, but leaned back, pursing his lips. He had no idea to phrase what he wanted to say without sounding rude, or pretentious, or…high maintenance. “I’m not really one for small talk, or fake pretenses.”

Kisame cocked his head, smiling. “Good? Neither am I.”

“So, can I ask you _why_ you asked me out?” Itachi inquired.

“Yep, and I’ll tell you,” Kisame responded, motioning to the waiter, “right after we order. I’m fuckin’ starving.”

Itachi hummed in consent. He ordered modestly, but something still extravagant for his budget. Kisame ordered largely, and…expensively. Itachi was suddenly relieved that he wasn’t needing to dish out any money tonight.

Kisame turned back to him, grinning as always, leaning forward on the table. “You want to know why I asked you out?”

“If it isn’t too much to ask,” Itachi said lightly, sipping his water.

Kisame chuckled. “I don’t know what answer you’re looking for. I just wanted to get to know you better, isn’t that why people go on dates to begin with?”

“Why, though?”

“You intrigue me. There’s something about you that just…drew me in. I don’t know. I wanted to get to know you. Couldn’t stop thinking about you. I think I would always wonder if there ever could have been something.”

Itachi blinked, not expecting that answer, but rather along the lines of ‘to have fun,’ or ‘because you’re hot.’

“I thought you said you wanted blunt.” Kisame laughed.

“Yes, I did, your answer just threw me off.”

“Oh, come on. This can’t be the first time someone’s asked you out.” Kisame’s voice was appreciative. “I did wonder how you were single.”

Itachi pushed hair behind his ear, knowing that it would still fall forward again anyways. “It’s been a trend of wasted time with wasteful people,” Itachi quipped.

Kisame tilted his head to the side. “That’s unfortunate. I guess that maybe you could draw a crowd like that.”

“And by that you mean…?”

Kisame shrugged, smile honest. “You’re a very attractive man.”

Oh. “Thank you,” Itachi murmured, unsure.

Kisame chuckled. “So, what was it about me that got you to give up your number again?” he asked. “My lucky day, or was I just that charming.”

Itachi answered slowly, “I’m not sure.”

“No? That’s fine. Either way, good for me, right?”

Itachi looked up through his lashes. “Good for you,” he repeated quietly, thinking. “And you?”

“What about me?”

Itachi searched his mind for the right words. “Did you go to the bar to pick up people? Or have you been content with the single life and I was just magical enough to sweep you off your feet,” he asked jokingly.

Kisame laughed. “Something like that.”

Itachi tilted his head. “As in…?”

“You intrigued me.” Kisame grinned. “Didn’t I already say something about that?”

Itachi pushed his lips together. On one hand, he was flattered that Kisame seemed to be so attracted to him. But on the other hand…why? There’s no way that Kisame could be so drawn to him after one meager conversation. A sinking feeling dripped down his stomach, one that told him he should have stayed home and had dinner with Sasuke.

“What are you thinking?” Kisame asked quietly, an intense look in his eyes.

“Honestly?”

“Always.”

“That I should have stayed home tonight.”

Kisame’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? Did I scare you off? I know this isn’t what you normally cover on a first date, but I got the impression that you like to skip the bullshit.”

Itachi sipped his water. “You’re right.”

Kisame looked at him keenly. “Did I upset you?”

“It’s not that you’ve upset me, it’s that—” Itachi let his eyes roll to the ceiling before he met Kisame’s. “I fear you are going to fall into the list of wasted time with wasteful people,” he quoted himself.

Kisame’s eyebrows rose up his forehead. “Really? I tried to make it very clear that I had honest intentions.”

Itachi looked off to the side, silent.

“Hey,” Kisame said softly, earnestly, leaning across the table. “If I’ve made you too uncomfortable, you can go home. Don’t worry about it, I’m not going to expect something from you if it’s not on your terms.”

Itachi considered twisting his water glass on the table.

Kisame kind of deflated against his chair, that charming grin gone.

Would he look so upset if he really wasn’t honest?

Kisame rubbed his hands together, starting to stand up. “Okay, I can walk you to your car if you want, or—”

“Sit down, Kisame,” Itachi murmured gently.

Kisame hesitated, but sank back down in his chair, looking at Itachi intently.

“It’s not that you’ve upset me, or offended me or anything like that,” Itachi voiced with a clear of his throat. “I just…don’t believe you.”

Kisame looked surprised. “What?”

“You say that there’s something so special about me that you have to get to know me. But I’m _not_ special in any way, and I’ve done nothing to make you feel otherwise.”

Kisame looked a touch shocked.

“And if you talk me up all evening and then try to take me home with you, I swear I will—” Itachi ran a hand over his face. “Just—don’t do that.”

Kisame stared at him with a serious gaze. “I’m not here for that,” he promised. “I don’t know how you want me to prove that, but I mean it. I just want to get to know you.” He flashed a quick smile.

There was a moment of silence, and Itachi ran a hand over his face again. “I’ve ruined this, now, haven’t I?”

“Ruined?” Kisame waved a generous hand. “Not at all. Think of the story this will be for our Grandkids.”

Itachi gave a delicate snort. He felt himself smiling despite himself as he looked up under his eyelashes. Kisame was awfully…gracious to repeatedly work around Itachi’s horrible faux pas.

“Hey,” Kisame said, reaching a hand across the table to touch Itachi’s fist, “you can relax, you know? Everything’s fine, you haven’t done anything wrong. I did allow you to be blunt, right?”

Itachi’s eyes flicked to Kisame’s hand on top of his, and then immediately went to his face. Their hands touching, their gaze held, Itachi felt lost in place for a small moment, shoulders relaxing from their tension, chest breathing easier.

The waiter came then with long, white dishes lined with sushi rolls.

“Put everything in the middle,” Kisame instructed, pulling back, “but put that one near him.” He gestured to what Itachi ordered and one of the plates.

“If you want to share I’m more than happy to—”

“You’re fine, you’re fine. I like to order a ton and pick around, so please eat whatever you want. Whatever we don’t need we can always take home, right? Just don’t make fun of me if I can’t use chopsticks as well as you.”

Itachi hummed thoughtfully, breaking his chopsticks apart. “Thank you.”

Kisame grinned. “I want this to be a good date. I am hunting for that second one.”

Itachi looked away, trying (and failing a little) to suppress a smile (again?). “Kisame, I mean it when I say you’re giving me too much credit. You barely know me.” His eyes flicked back to Kisame’s face. “Get any more excited and you’ll end up disappointed.”

“And that’s why we’re here, to change that.” His eyes never did stop grinning, did they? “Now that we’ve officiated that I _am_ here to get to know you.”

“Okay,” he sighed, tapping his chopsticks against his plate, “what would you like to know?”

“Well, let’s get the required first date questions out of the way?” Kisame suggested. He laughed, clearly having fun.

Itachi cocked his head to the side. “Take it away.”

“What do you do? Professionally, I mean.”

Itachi paused. “I’m a waiter, actually. I also tutor students k-12.” He placed a sushi roll in his mouth so he had an excuse to stop talking.

“Yeah?” Kisame asked, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t look put off by it, just surprised. In a good way, thankfully. “What do you teach them?”

“Anything they need, really. I prefer helping with linguistics and history, just because I find it more enjoyable than other subjects and it’s relaxing to me. I like teaching chemistry and anatomy and biology, too. Trigonometry and calculus is hard to tutor kids in, mostly just because of how many struggle with those subjects. Government and economics are my least favorite.”

“So, do you just, know _everything_?” Kisame asked, sounding impressed. “I’ve never heard of a jack-of-all-trades tutor.”

“Not by a long shot,” Itachi replied easily.

Kisame shook his head, giving Itachi that look again. “You know damn well a lot more than me.”

Itachi shrugged one shoulder. “I’m sure that’s not true at all. What do _you_ do?”

“I’m an architect, I work at an architectural construction contracting firm in my city. I’ve been there a few years.”

Itachi suddenly felt himself pale considerably in comparison to his dinner partner. “Ah. And do you plan out the buildings, or make them?” he asked, wishing he knew better terminology.

“Both, if I can. There’s nothing worse than creating something beautiful only to watch someone execute it the wrong way. I usually just get stuck behind the blueprinting desk, though.”

Itachi tapped his chopsticks against his plate. “So you’re an artist?” Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised—Kisame was kind of covered in art (the tattoos, the piercings, the _grin_ ).

“An artist?” He looked up at the ceiling. “Yeah, I guess.”

“What else do you do?” Itachi asked, honestly intrigued.

Kisame swallowed another mouthful of rice and fish. “I love to surf, when I make it to the ocean. I like to wash my car, and my motorcycle. I go to the gym a lot. When there’s something to build or fix I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Handy man,” Itachi murmured, nudging wasabi around the plate.

Kisame snorted. “If you want to look at it that way. What about you?”

“Hmm. I like to read.” He searched his brain wildly for what he actually _enjoyed_ doing. So much of his time was swept up in responsibilities, he actually had a rather boring recreational life. “Art festivals are always a treat when I can make it to one. I’ll be honest though, most of my time is eaten up with work, tutoring, and taking care of Sasuke.”

Kisame laughed a little. “Taking care of him? He’s an adult, isn’t he?”

Itachi gave a fond hum. “He’s still my little brother and—to be brutally blunt—not very good at taking care of himself. Too many bad decisions. Reckless, thinks all with his emotions.”

Kisame cocked his head. “You guys are really close, aren’t you?”

Itachi gave a one shouldered shrug. “He’s important to me.”

“That’s good. Family is important.” Kisame got a waiter’s attention and ordered a beer.

“What about your family?”

Kisame grinned. “No siblings. I was kind of a handful of a kid, think I scared my parents out of having any more. The whole of my family—that I know any ways—lives in Tutuila or Upolu.”

“You’re Samoan, then?”

Kisame grinned. “Mostly Samoan, touch Nigerian, and a little Norweigan.”

Itachi raised his eyebrows with a little laugh. “Norweigan?”

“Yeah, how else do you think I’m related to Suigestu and Mangetsu’s pale asses?” He laughed. “Can’t tell much, I guess, with my complexion and all.” He took a swig of beer. “I know I’ve got family in Norway but I’ve never managed to stop by to meet them. My cousins both have spent extended time there, though.”

Itachi hummed for a moment, thoughtful. “Do you like it?”

“Like what?”

“Having such a big family.”

Kisame grinned. “They can be annoying, but at the end of the day, yeah, it’s great. Wouldn’t trade them for the world. What about you?”

Itachi rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. “Well—my dad had a falling out with his family when I was still in the womb, and they ended up moving to America from Japan. When I was thirteen they passed away. My brother and have never met our other family.”

Kisame’s grin was gone. “Wait—what?”

Itachi looked up from under his lashes. “Surprise,” he mumbled.

Kisame leaned back in his chair, setting his chopsticks down. “Thirteen? And here I was ribbing you for being so close with Sasuke, no _shit_ you guys are close.”

Itachi shook his head forgivingly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m guessing your family is still holding a grudge against you?”

“Not terribly uncommon in Japan for one person’s grudge to extend to future generations. There was one cousin who tried to contact me for a while. Actually managed to get a hold of me, and was able to explain the extent of the family feud.” Itachi smiled fondly. “He was actually quite a guy, I really liked talking to him when we visited. He was…drowned, though, and since then I haven’t spoken to any other extended family.”

Kisame stared. “Are you serious?”

Itachi poked a roll on his plate with his chopsticks. “I know, it’s a little gruesome for dinner conversation. We don’t need to keep talking about it.”

Kisame shook his head. “You’re fine. I’m just surprised is all. I hope you didn’t feel pressured into telling me that or anything.”

Itachi shrugged. “Secrets get tiring,” he said eventually. “It used to be a big deal to me, but…well, mostly, Sasuke got fed up with how much I tiptoed around it.” Itachi cleared his throat. “Sasuke tells me I should be more open.”

Kisame chuckled. “More open? But, you’re practically an open book!”

Itachi rolled his eyes. His lips twitched. He hid his smile behind his water glass.

The dinner conversation rolled on as one of the easiest conversations Itachi had had in a long time. Kisame kept the banter light, and had no problem filling the gaps in conversations when Itachi’s rusty social skills failed him. Damn if Itachi knew _why_ he was so comfortable around Kisame, but he was.

Itachi lost track of time; both had finished eating long ago, but stayed at the table talking. They didn’t run out of things to talk about, and Itachi didn’t get bored even once. Kisame had a lovely voice to listen to, as well; that helped.

“I think they might need this table,” Kisame commented after several minutes, glancing towards the people waiting outside the door.

“Oh,” Itachi said, quietly disappointed, “of course.” He stood, and Kisame followed suit. The two exited the building and moved away from the cluster of people outside, over to an empty flat of chipped red bricks lined by towering white pillars.

Itachi was running through his head the appropriate goodbye. What a nice evening. He—wouldn’t really mind a second date, if it meant he got to spend more time with Kisame. But—he didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t—

“You know, if you have time, we can make one more stop.”

Itachi blinked up. He suppressed the bubble of happiness in the chest. “What did you have in mind?”

Kisame smiled, sidling forward. “There’s this killer ice cream shop a street over. They make it with liquid nitrogen, which is how it got popular. It’s the best ice cream I’ve ever had, I promise.” He reached up, his finger brushing a tendril of Itachi’s dark hair. “If you want we can stop by.”

Itachi met his eyes, swimming for a moment in Kisame’s, and nodded. “Yeah, I don’t need to get home right now. Ice cream sounds…good.” Where had his extensive vocabulary gone to?

“Ice cream sounds good?” Kisame teased, leaning forward.

Itachi froze a little at the close proximity.

Kisame laughed and leaned back. “This way,” he motioned, gesturing towards the end of the street. Itachi walked next to him, the crisp, light night breeze helping to keep his hair behind his face. The two of them walked down the long street. Itachi looked up to see the glow of traffic lights reflecting off of Kisame’s skin. They turned the corner and Itachi pushed hair out of his face. When he dropped his hand, it brushed against Kisame’s.

The ice cream shop was close, and they got there quickly. Kisame ordered some coffee flavored clusterfuck, and Itachi stayed with simple vanilla.

They walked up one of the more secluded streets as they talked and ate. Kisame started up one of those dumb games, would-you-rather. It was a good way to get to know someone, Kisame defended, though his questions were more odd than enlightening. The red bricked sidewalks were wet on the edges from sprinklers for the small planters at the edge of the street. The quaint shops lining both sides of the street were dark; their only company were the dim glow of the street lights and a lone car every now and again.

Itachi was laughing quietly—he didn’t even remember why, but he had this very light, easy feeling in his chest that bred laughter. Kisame was grinning over at him.

God, that grin was…nice to look at.

They reached a bench that was partially obscured in shadows. Kisame pulled him down to sit, turning and leaning his arm against the back to he could face him. Itachi scooped up the rest of his ice cream and tossed the empty paper cup in a nearby trash can. 

“Would you rather,” Kisame hummed, looking up at the dark night sky, “be eaten by a shark, or torn apart by tigers?”

Itachi snorted, bringing a hand to his face. What kind of question…? “Eaten by a shark,” he answered, pushing his hair off of his shoulder.

“Me too,” Kisame agreed. “Your turn.”

Itachi stayed thoughtful for a moment. “Would you rather work a job you hated but got rich off of, or work a job you loved but always struggled to make ends meet?”

“Should have known you would choose a philosophical one.” Kisame rubbed his hand together. “It depends.”

Itachi cocked his head to the side. “On?”

“If I have a family, or people to provide for I would work the first job, so I could ensure that my kids could go to college and shit. Ya know? But if I’m just on my own, the second one.”

“Thoughtful,” Itachi murmured.

Kisame grinned over at him, leaning back on the bench and stretching out his legs. He let his hand slide off of his lap and pressed his fingers against Itachi’s. It was only for just a second, though, and then his hands were folded behind his head. Itachi glanced down. His fingers twitched on the bench before he relocated them into his lap.

Kisame’s fingers twitched nervously between his.

“This was fun,” Kisame commented quietly.

Itachi nodded, gently pushing his bangs behind his ear. “It was,” he repeated honestly.

Kisame let his head roll to the side to look at him. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” His eyes were so soft, so happy… _honest_.

He looked straight forward, staring at the cracked sidewalk. “I enjoyed myself quite well,” he said. “It might be hard to beat on the second date.”

Kisame let a slow smile spread across his face. “Yeah?” He dropped his hands from behind his hair, leaned into the bench, head tilted forward. “You’ll go out with me again?”

Itachi looked up. “What makes you think I wouldn’t?”

Kisame gave somewhat of a goofy shrug. “I don’t know. I’m just really psyched you wanna hang out more.”

Itachi huffed. “Don’t be over dramatic.” He stared at the sidewalk. “It’s probably a good idea to get to know each other, anyway. It takes two people to control Naruto and Suigetsu when they get drunk together.”

Kisame chuckled.

They stayed like that in the quiet darkness for a couple minutes.

“It’s late,” Kisame commented eventually (reluctantly?), breaking the silence. “We should both probably head home now. I’m sure your brother is wondering where you are.”

“Oh,” Itachi muttered under his breath. He checked his phone—9:23. The last bus left at 9:30 _,_ and if he didn’t catch it he would be stuck in downtown all night. Or, more likely, he would have to call Suigetsu for a ride home. And even more unpleasant option. “Yeah, I got to get going.”

Kisame stood up.

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Uh,” Itachi replied quickly, “it’s fine, you don’t need to bother.” Now wasn’t the time to explain, ‘hey, I’m kind of dirt-and-rags poor and don’t own a car.’

“It’s late, and you never know who’s out here. I’ll walk you.”

“I can defend myself if need be,” Itachi insisted.

“Are you sure? There’s no harm in it—”

“I’m sure.”

Kisame paused, a clearly please frown smeared across his mouth. “Fine, but I don’t know why you’re being so stubborn.”

“I’m not being stubborn,” Itachi sniffed.

Kisame stared at him for a moment before a smile cracked across his face like an egg. “Okay, whatever you say.” He reached one hand up to touch Itachi’s cheek. Just a brush of fingers, just a touch. His eyes flicked to the thick hair framing his face. They looked—fascinated, and his fingers twitched once before he dropped his hand entirely. “I’ll call you,” he promised, voice gruff.

“Yeah,” Itachi replied.

“And I’ll plan a great second date, I promise.”

“Yeah.”

“Is that all you can say?”

Itachi smiled a little. “Yeah.”

“I’ll see you again soon, hopefully. Bye, Itachi.” And Kisame waved, took a couple steps backward with a lingering look, and turned away.

“Bye.” Itachi pursed his lips as he watched Kisame leave.

Right—the bus.

He walked as quickly as he could without looking panicked until he hit the next street; rounding the corner he broke out into a full on sprint. He was almost completely out of breath by the time the bus came into sight. He clambered onto the bus just in time. A couple of the other passengers glared at him for the overtop entrance, which he ignored.

The bus ride felt long as he leaned against the window. He felt the afterglow of the night swirl around in his belly like a warm bowl of soup. His date had gone unexpectedly, that was undeniable, but it left him feeling giddy and rather optimistic. He had never been so open and…affectionate with someone he knew for a total of a few hours. With his last boyfriend, it took Itachi over two weeks to even kiss him.

The bus dropped him off at the stop closest to his house just after nine o’clock. The streets were mostly empty, here, and the brisk night air had him pressing his arms close to his sides. He hurried along the quiet streets in the small walk it took to reach his apartment complex, accompanied only by the bright glare of the moon and the distant hum of cars from the highway.

His cold fingers managed to jam the key into the lock after only a couple of tries—damn his unreliable circulation—and he was greeted nearly instantly by a very impatient looking Sasuke.

“Well did you _fuck_ him?”

Itachi blinked owlishly.

“Because I’ve been trying to think of how a _first_ date that started at just past six could run over four hours, and while I was sitting in this damn cold kitchen trying to brainstorm where the _hell_ you were, that’s all I could come up with!”

Itachi slowly took his coat off. “Sasuke, I didn’t—”

“And you didn’t call, or text, and I figured that the only way you would refuse to just _tell me_ that you were going to be home later than expected was if his dick was so far up your ass you could only concentrate on the back of your skull!”

“Sasuke—”

“So if you think that—”

“Sasuke,” Itachi interrupted. “Were you— _worried_ about me?”

Sasuke huffed, looking down. His pale fingers knotted in the old, thinning white tshirt he wore to bed nearly every night. “You never get home a minute late without telling me first. How was I supposed to know where you were.”

“Sasuke,” Itachi said gently. “That’s so… _cute_!”

“Shut up,” Sasuke snapped, “and explain yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” Itachi began, walking over and kissing Sasuke’s temple, “for making you worry. I didn’t think you’ve ever even noticed when I text you that I’ll be home late. For starters, no, I did not sleep with anyone. We just ended up…talking a lot.” He moved to the kitchen sink to wash his hands.

“Talking,” Sasuke asked incredulously, crossing his arms. Itachi thought that, though he was trying to look authoritative, Sasuke looked nothing but adorable in crumpled sweatpants and a messy head of black hair.

“Yes, talking.” Itachi stayed focused on the foamy clumps of soap bubbles slipping off his fingers and splattering against the metal sink.

“Is that code speak for sucking on each other’s tongues?”

Itachi looked over his shoulder to give his brother a gentle glare. “No, Sasuke, it’s real speak for talking.”

Sasuke let out another pouty breath. After a moment of silence broken only by the running water, he asked, “So…was it…a good date, then?”

Itachi shook the water off of his hands, turning the faucet off and rubbing a towel over his skin. “Yes, it was a really good date.”

Another pause. Itachi turned around to lean against the kitchen counter. “Are you going on another one?”

Itachi’s lips twitched up in one corner. “If he asks me to join him again, I’ll say yes.”

“Hm.”

“Is that a problem?”

Sasuke’s neck looked tense. “You know how I feel. You know my concerns.”

Itachi murmured, “I know.”

Sasuke crossed the room and grabbed Itachi’s hands in both of his. “Your hands are cold as shit; you’re going to get sick.”

“I just had them under cold water,” Itachi reminded.

Sasuke glared and reached up to clamp his fingers around Itachi’s near freezing nose, to which Itachi had no defense.

“I may have slightly under dressed for the weather,” Itachi conceded, smiling against Sasuke’s wrist, which hadn’t left his face.

“Frickin’ idiot,” Sasuke muttered, releasing Itachi’s nose, “you’re always so damn cold, you’re going to get pneumonia one of these days. You want that?”

“No,” Itachi hummed, smiling as Sasuke grabbed his ears.

“You’re sleeping with me tonight. Otherwise I’m going to wake up tomorrow with a popsicle for a brother,” Sasuke huffed, turning abruptly and leaving the room.

“At least then maybe you would have a decent breakfast!” Itachi called after him, alluding to the constant jokes Sasuke made about his cooking. It was true, though, that the weather was dropping more and more at night, and Sasuke and Itachi only even touched the thermostat when it was absolutely necessary. Sharing a bed was often enough to take the edge off of some of the colder nights.

Itachi took a quick but warm shower to get his blood flowing again, and after a ‘don’t you even _dare_ think about going to bed with wet hair!’ from Sasuke, he towel dried it vigorously and finished it off with the blow dryer. After brushing his teeth and combing his hair as best he could, he collapsed in Sasuke’s bed and watched him type up part of a literature paper.

“What book is it on?” Itachi asked, laying on his stomach, feet (covered in fluffy socks to not further anger Sasuke) crossed at the ankle and dangling in the air, cheek resting on his folded (and somehow still cold) hands.

“Farenheit 451,” he replied absentmindedly.

“I loved that book,” Itachi hummed, but he got no response, so he remained quiet. He closed his eyes, listening to the soft tap of keys, and intermittent pauses where Sasuke took a sip of tea, and then the clunk of the heavy mug against the wooden desk top.

Close to an hour later, Itachi was drifting off into some form of half-sleep when Sasuke muttered ‘move over’ and yanked the covers out from under him. He settled in next to Itachi, who sat up to set an alarm on his phone. He saw a message on his lock screen that said, _I hope you got home safely, Itachi. Sleep well. I’ll talk to you again soon. –Kisame_

With a smile that tried to disappear between clamped teeth, Itachi settled back into bed next to Sasuke, who grabbed his chilly hands and rubbed them.

“I’ll knit you mittens tomorrow,” he muttered gruffly.

Itachi let out a sleepy sigh.

\--

“Hey, Suigetsu.”

“’Sup? It’s late, man, what are you doing calling me?”

“I just need to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah? Sure.”

“How well do you know Kisame?”

“Uh, I mean, kinda well? I’ve known him my whole life, but he’s almost ten years older than me. Didn’t leave a lot of room for intimate talks and sleepovers when we were kids. He lived with his family for a while, too.”

“Is he a good person?”

“What? Yeah, I mean—yeah. Why are you asking me all this?”

A pause. “He took Itachi out on a date tonight, and I’m pretty sure they’re going out again.”

“For real? Dude, that’s so crazy!”

“I need you to promise me—” A harsh breath. “I’m… _not_ letting another Marcus into Itachi’s life, not even for five minutes. So I need you to promise me that I can trust Kisame.”

“I mean, I can’t say he’s an angel, but—he’s no Marcus. Why, though? Was their date that big a deal?”

“…Itachi was in a really good mood when he got home. And he got home later than he expected, too. He had fun, and he likes Kisame, I can tell. Fuck.” He ran a hand over his head. “Fuck, Suigetsu, if your cousin even looks at Itachi the wrong way….”

“Kisame’s a good guy. I mean, you’ve met him before, right? He’s not a fuck up.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow; don’t forget to show up to statistics this time, I’m not letting you copy my notes anymore.”

Sasuke let out a sigh, ending the call and glancing down at the soft form of his sleeping brother next to hm. Part of him wanted to kick Kisame clean out of Itachi’s life before he even had the chance to hurt him. But part of him knew…that Itachi was lonely, lonely in a way that Sasuke couldn’t soothe. And Itachi didn’t deserve even a second of unhappiness, much less the years he had already gone through. And if even one date with Kisame could make his mood so notably brighter….

He guessed he would just have to wait and see how things turned out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think if you want.
> 
> Funny enough, I have over 80 pages of this thing written, but a large chunk in the middle is missing and I'm still filling in gaps to keep development smoother. Update times should be pretty quick, regardless.
> 
> I hope you stick around for the next chapter if you liked it <3
> 
> Edited notes: I've gone through and made this less awkward than it was originally. Fixed some typos/characterization things. Nothing major, but important none the less.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring: a snippet of my anatomy notes because I couldn't think of anything else to teach.
> 
> Also featuring: me using my Kisame headcanons as a soap box? What? No I would never. 
> 
> Anywho, the first date they went on focused a lot on Itachi, so there second one is all about Kisame. I really hope this never feels slow or boring. I'm stuck between wanting to keep their development slow while still moving things along as much as possible without breaking characterization. The following chapters get more into their development as a relationship, past the get-to-know-you phases. 
> 
> ALSO I'm really sorry this took over a month to get out....I was out of the country for over two weeks and ended up not having much time at all. I did my best though!
> 
> I really hope you enjoy!

Itachi ran a patient hand through his hair. “Okay, let’s move on.” He shuffled through his notes. “If the body is getting too cold, what three things will it do to conserve energy?”

His student blinked at him.

“Involving blood, muscles, and glands….” Itachi prompted.

His student looked off to the side.

Itachi sighed a little. “At least take a guess.”

His student grumbled something. “I don’t know.”

“You _do_ know, you just need to remember. What do you do when you’re cold?”

He shrugged. “Get a jacket?”

Itachi tensed the muscles in his foot to channel his frustration. “I mean what does your _body_ do?”

The kid sighed, looking to the ceiling. “I shiver?”

“Not a question,” Itachi corrected, “a correct answer. Be more confident in your answers, you’ll do better on tests.” He gave an encouraging smile. “What are the other two bodily responses?”

“I don’t know,” he groaned. “I can’t remember any of this for shi—…for the life of me.”

Itachi reached out and took his student’s hand, stretching his arm out. “Do you see your veins under your skin?”

“Yeah,” the kid muttered.

“When it’s really hot outside, have you ever notice how they seem to pop out more? Your heart creates a lot of energy, which is partially carried through your blood. When it’s hot, blood vessels vasodilate and push closer to the surface of the skin to release some of that heat. So if it was _cold_ outside, what would happen?”

“They would go in?”

“Correct. Vasoconstriction occurs when your body is conserving energy. And the third thing?”

He shrugged listlessly.

Itachi pressed his lips together. “Sudoriferous glands halt sweat production.”

“Oh.”

“Hey, look at me.”

The kid dragged his eyes up from the table.

“The things you do in temperature change: you shiver, your veins bulge, and you sweat. If you can remember those, you’ll be able to recall the physiological correlation, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Itachi drummed his fingers against his leg. “Do you…even want to do well in this class?

“I don’t care.”

“I see.” Itachi ran a million different things through his head on what to say, but a knock on the door interrupted him.

His the student immediately jumped up, carelessly shoved his things into this bag, and ran to the door. Itachi followed, pushing away from the kitchen table and arriving at the door only to see the kid dashing down the stairs.

“How is Hunter doing?” The worried woman at the door asked, a frown on her face.

“I don’t think your son cares much about being successful in this class, Mrs. Harrison,” Itachi informed her.

The mother let out a breath. “I just don’t know what to do with that boy. His father and I are trying so hard but nothing seems to motivate him….”

Itachi cleared his throat. “If you’d like, the next time he comes in for a session I can—”

“Mr. Uchiha,” she interrupted, a sad expression in her eyes. “You have been nothing but helpful to my Hunter, but I can’t foresee him taking this seriously any time soon. I don’t want to waste your time with a son who doesn’t appreciate how hard you work for him.”

Itachi swallowed back the bile in his stomach. “Ah. That is understandable.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Uchiha, but I think I’ll have to cancel our sessions for now.”

He gave a quick smile. “You may call me Itachi,” he clarified quietly. “I completely understand. If you do ever want to bring Hunter back, I’ll make sure to reserve him a spot. Just call me.”

“Of course. Thank you for how hard you have tried to help my son.”

“Any time,” Itachi answered, letting the dejection he was feeling seep into his voice as the woman descended the stairs out of earshot. He collapsed onto the couch when he got back inside his apartment, face pressed into the pillows.

He couldn’t _afford_ to lose income right now!

He groaned. The only silver lining was if he lost more students he could take up another shift at the restaurant.

He couldn’t let Sasuke know about this, absolutely not. Sasuke would insist again that he should take a job to help with finances—and that was unacceptable. Itachi could do it. Itachi could take care all of it, he could take care of Sasuke. He could.

 _He could_. Even if it killed him.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he rolled over to fish it out, thinking it was Sasuke.

_Hey, Itachi._

Itachi blinked, and then quickly saved the number to his cell phone. _Asking for that second date already?_

_Ha. No, not yet, I just wanted to say hi._

Itachi bit his lip. _Hi._

He could almost see the grin that he knew Kisame was wearing. _You’re cute. How’re you?_

Itachi leaned back into the couch. His instinct was to lie—as always. Kisame didn’t need to know how he _really_ was doing, because that was heavy. Too heavy for Kisame, probably, and Itachi wasn’t sure if he wanted Kisame to run away screaming at Itachi’s insanity just yet.

But at the same time something just felt so _wrong_ about lying to Kisame.

 _Alright_. His fingers hovered over the screen hesitantly. _A little unfortunate_.

_Unfortunate? Did something happen?_

Itachi pursed his lips. He wasn’t used to this. _Just trouble with one of the kids I tutor._

_What happened?_

_Nothing happened, per say. He just refuses to study. Every session I’ve been teaching him the same things. Either nothing is sticking, or he’s faking his forgetfulness._

_I’m laughing, because that sucks for you, but that was literally me in highschool. My teachers all hated me. I was such a shit._

Itachi snorted, folding his legs. _Why isn’t that hard to believe? What about you. How was your day?_

_It’s been fine. Work is slow._

_You’re texting me from work? Won’t that get you in trouble?_

_Eh._

Itachi frowned. _Don’t get in trouble for my sake._

_I won’t get in trouble, don’t worry. No one here really gives a shit. Besides, I have nothing to do right now._

Itachi tapped his thumb against the side of his phone. Wow, he wished he hadn’t foregone human interaction for so many years. At least then maybe he would know what to say. _Do you have a lot of friends at work?_

_Friends? Yeah, I guess. We hang out sometimes. They certainly aren’t the most awful people I could be stuck working with, hah._

_But you mostly hang out with Mangestu?_

_For some reason. Guy’s such a joker._

_You mentioned that Mangetsu and Suigetsu have visited their family in Norway extensively, how come you never have?_

_Do you know how cold it gets in Norway?!  
‘Sides, I’m much closer with my family in the Islands. Any break time I get, I go there. _

_Of course you would be a sucker to cold._

_Of course. Hey, I was wondering, when do you have free?_

_What do you mean?_

_When’s a good time to take you out on my next date?_

Itachi chuckled to himself. _I have most evenings free. Saturdays I have significantly more free time. Thursdays are usually the busiest days for me._

_Fan-fucking-tastic, Saturdays are my off days. Does this Saturday sound good?_

Itachi shifted on the couch, just barely smiling down at his phone. _I thought you weren’t hounding for that second date, yet?_

_I got carried away? I want to see you again. Soon._

Itachi shook his head. _It’s a mystery to me still, but alright. What are we doing?_

_It’s a surprise, Itachi. Duh._

_Duh._ Itachi glanced up at the clock. _My next student is going to be here in a few minutes._

_No problem. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?_

_Yeah._

_And I’ll see you Saturday._

_I’ll look forward to it. See you._

Itachi got up from the couch, stretching his arms behind his head. He had a significantly more…airy feeling in his stomach, like a bottle of bubbly got popped open. He didn’t feel as overwhelmed and stuck in a hole as he knew he should feel.

He had something to look forward to, a light at the end of the tunnel, and he knew that Kisame would push all the worry out of his stomach and mind when he saw him on Saturday. It was strange, how someone so new already made him feel so…different.

His student came a few minutes later, a chipper girl who struggled with reading comprehension, which made the visit incredibly more stress free than his last no-longer-student. The hour flew by, and after her departure Itachi had to leave for work. The rest of the day was kind of a blur of endless plates of food and more dishes to clean than Itachi knew what to do with.

Kisame texted him goodnight again that night.

\--

It was Friday morning, and Itachi was filing away the trigonometry notes from the student he had just worked with. Kisame had texted him good morning or good night a couple of times, but left the events of the next day a complete mystery. When Sasuke threw a fit a few months prior about how Itachi was working himself to death, Itachi agreed to let go of his Saturday evening shift. It gave him more time to be around Sasuke and Co. (ya know, Suigetsu and the bunch) anyways, so Itachi wasn’t upset about it anymore.

The other, newfound bright side was that after his handful of students in the morning, he had the entire afternoon and evening free for whatever Kisame had planned.

The dryer beeped, and Itachi quickly stashed the folder in the filing cabinet in the hall closet—because there wasn’t any room for it anywhere else—and went to rescue the clothes from getting wrinkled. He folded them on top of the old machine, the freshly cleaned fabrics warming his skinny hands. As he put a folded stack of shirts away in his drawer, he felt a buzzing from his pocket.

Itachi picked up the phone. “Hey,” he answered, pushing hair behind his ear and sitting down his old desk chair.

“Hey, Itachi, how are you?” Kisame sounded a little breathless.

“I’m fine,” Itachi responded lightly, twisting in the chair.

“So remember how I said I was going to plan a great second date?”

“Something like that,” Itachi murmured coyly.

“Well, work had other plans and I haven’t had any time.”

Itachi paused. “Oh,” he said, shifting in the chair, feeling a veiny coldness in this stomach. “You’re cancelling.”

“Oh—fuck, no I’m _not_ cancelling.” He heard Kisame snort. “No, I just wanted to say that our _third_ date will be the fantastic one.”

“Who says you’re getting a third one?” Itachi asked, but he was smiling.

“Aw, come on. Didn’t you say I was so charming?”

“Did I?” He spun in the chair again. “If our third date is going to be the spectacular one, what are you implying about our _second_ date?”

Kisame laughed a little. “I want to see you again soon, even if only for a little, so would you be too offended if I offered the oh-so-cliché dinner and a movie?”

Itachi chuckled. “No, that sounds fine. What movies are even playing?” He hadn’t seen a sign in, who knows, ages.

“I was thinking maybe you wanted to see Everest?”

Itachi blinked. “…that’s actually a pretty good choice.”

“Thank _god_ , I only spent like three hours scrolling through local theater listings last night.”

Itachi raised an eyebrow and snorted out a laugh. “Have you considered that you are overthinking this, maybe? I’m honestly not that hard to please.”

“I gotta be on my toes for someone like you.”

Itachi’s brows furrowed. “Someone like me?”

Kisame scoffed. “Play the humble card all you want, Itachi, I know that you have people begging for dates left and right.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because I’ve met you.” Kisame answered like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“...I don’t get it.”

Kisame laughed loudly. “You’re a riot.”

“No, I really don’t get it,” Itachi insisted. But he was smiling again.

“I’ll have to show you sometime. Like on our date?”

“You’re smooth.” Sarcasm.

“Right? Anyway—fuck—” Itachi heard shuffling on the other end.

“Are you…okay?”

“Yeah,” Kisame muttered. “I’m cat sitting for my coworker and this thing is the devil.”

“Don’t say that,” Itachi sniffed. “I love cats. I’m sure you’re just scaring him.”

“I’m not scaring him.”

“You’re too big and tall, I bet,” Itachi joked, pressing his foot against the desk and using the leverage to swivel the chair. “Try getting on its level.”

Kisame laughed. “What?”

“Animals don’t like it when people tower over them. So like, lay down on the ground.”

Kisame laughed even louder.

“Fine,” Itachi huffed, fake offended. “Don’t take my advice. You’ll be sorry when you’re covered in scratches.”

“ _Anyways_ , enough about the damn cat. Since Saturday isn’t going to work, is there another time you have free?”

Itachi tilted his head. “I’m free tonight.”

“Tonight? Yeah?”

Itachi shrugged. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“No, no, I want to.”

“I get off of work at 6,” Itachi replied. “What time do you want to meet at the theater?”

“Maybe we should check what time the movie is playing,” Kisame suggested with a snicker.

“Maybe I’ll stay home.”

Kisame laughed. “You’re cute.”

“You’ve already said that once.”

“I felt the need to say it again. Hold on, let me get my laptop going, and I’ll check the time.”

Itachi got up out of his chair, hearing a crash and curse from the other end of the line. “Why are you watching someone’s cat, again?”

“I owe my dumb coworker, Rhea. She’s been holding onto this favor for so long and finally cashed it. I swear, she could have gotten her boyfriend to do it for her, but _no_ she has to ask me just because she knows I’m shit with animals. Okay, uh—there’s a showing at 6:15, does that sound good? Or is that too close?”

Itachi hummed. “No, it’s fine. I’ll only miss some of the trailers.”

“Itachi, those are the best part of the movie theater experience.”

“Oh, you’re one of _those._ ”

Kisame snorted.

“You said dinner, too?” Itachi opened his wallet, thumbing through his tip money.

“Yeah, we can grab a bite afterwards if you’re up to it? Have you been to the Mexican place across the street?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“You’ll like it.”

Itachi tucked his phone between his head and his shoulder, digging through his wallet for that movie theater gift card a student gave to him last Christmas. “Okay, that sounds fine. Like I said, I might be late, so just go into the theater without me and I’ll meet you there.”

“Yeah,” Kisame sounded distracted. A sound of a tinkling bell made it across the line.

Itachi rolled his eyes. “I better let you go, before you accidentally kill the cat.”

“Accidentally?”

“Goodbye, Kisame. Don’t forget to save me a seat.”

“See you in a few!” Kisame shouted before Itachi hit the end button.

Itachi exited his room and padded through the hall to Sasuke’s room. Sasuke was bent over his desk working on an essay he was entering into a national scholarship program, headphones holding down his wayward hair.

Itachi approached him from the back and dug his fingers hard into Sasuke’s knotted muscles.

“Ah, fuck!” Sasuke nearly yelped, back automatically arching away from the assault.

“Language,” Itachi reminded lightly. “Do I need to buy you a better chair?” He asked, pushing his thumb against the tense muscles.

“You don’t need to buy me anything,” Sasuke grumbled, picked his headphones off of his lap, where they had been jolted from the jump.

“I don’t want you developing back problems.”

“Okay, _mom_.”

Itachi hummed, squeezing Sasuke’s shoulders. “Sit up straight.”

Sasuke swiveled around in his chair. “Did you come here to nag at me for pointless things, or did you actually have a reason to interrupt me?”

“Your health and safety are not pointless.”

Sasuke gave him a dead stare.

“But, yes, I did have a reason.”

“Being…?”

Itachi rolled his eyes. “Kisame asked me out to a movie.”

Sasuke paused for a second, raised an eyebrow, and then snorted. “A movie? That’s the best he can do?”

Itachi frowned. “Don’t be mean. He said that he hasn’t had any time to plan something extravagant, but he still wants to see me again.”

“Wants to see _you_ , or wants to see your dick?”

Itachi sighed, sitting down on Sasuke’s bed. “Otouto, not everyone is out to have sex with me.”

Sasuke dramatically swung his arm out to an imaginary display next to him. “Aaaand, in exhibit A we have Ezra, the cocky and hilarious high school boyfriend whose _soft side_ disappeared when you wouldn’t fuck him after homecoming! In exhibit B we have Kyle, the silly, shy nice guy who went in to a rampage when you didn’t have sex with him after the first date. Exhibit C showcases the oh so talented hockey player you dated, Mr. Aiden fucking Martin, who contracted genital herpes from _someone_ when you didn’t put out soon enough for him. In exhibit D we have Elija—”

“I get the picture, Sasuke.”                                                

“Do you? Do you, _actually_?” Sasuke was starting to get angry. “Because even after all that, even after all of the other guys who tried to charm you into bed, you _still_ dated Marcus.”

Itachi retained a calm gaze. “Okay, so maybe I’ve had a couple of bad boyfriends—”

“ _Those were your only boyfriends._ ”

Itachi pursed his lips. “Four isn’t that many.”

“It is when that’s the grand total of _everyone_ you’ve ever dated!” Sasuke groaned.

“Okay, well,” Itachi looked up at the ceiling. “The first three weren’t even that bad. And besides, Kisame doesn’t seem like that.”

“That’s what you said about Blake.”

Itachi cocked his head, face scrunching up. “Who’s Blake?”

Sasuke rolled his eyes. “That’s exactly how relevant he was.”

Itachi folded his hand on his lap, looking down at the floor. “I…understand that you think I’m either an idiot for dating such people, or that I’m a magnet for trouble.”

“I think you’re _both_.”

“But,” Itachi continued, ignoring his brother, “it’s been two years since Marcus. And I’m better. You know I’m better. None of that is going to happen again. A lot of that was my fault.”

Sasuke’s eyes flashed up practically glowing red. “Don’t you _dare say that_ —”

“I mean,” Itachi corrected quickly, “that my mental state was messed up. It could have been anyone, the same outcomes would have happened. I didn’t do anything wrong, but it wasn’t solely Marcus’ fault.”

Sasuke glared at the floor.

“Besides, this really is different!”

“How?”

“Because, this isn’t some random guy; Kisame’s family to our…basically family,” he said, referring to Suigetsu.

Sasuke looked up from the floor, blowing a clump of hair out of his face. He was pouting.

Itachi thought it was very cute.

“I’ll be safe, Sasuke. And I’ll be smarter. I promise.”

Sasuke set his jaw. “If he hurts you, I’ll literally kill him.”

Itachi chuckled nervously, because Sasuke probably wasn’t kidding.

“Duly noted.” Itachi got up from the bed and leaned over to give Sasuke a kiss on the temple. He grumbled, but didn’t refuse it. “I’m touched that you’re so worried about me, but I can take care of myself, little brother.”

“You can’t, though,” Sasuke replied tiredly. “You are absolute shit at taking care of yourself.”

Itachi paused, tilting his head. “I’m learning. Don’t discredit my progress.” He laughed at the immediate glare Sasuke shot him. “I’m leaving soon for work. Be diligent while I’m gone.”

Work was as usual. The bus took twenty minutes to drop him off at the closest stop from the theater, and the walk the rest of the way was short. It felt so good to use a gift card instead to pay for the ticket instead of pulling money out of his wallet, and so he was cheerful as he entered the theater and made his way back to the showing room.

A trailer for the umpteenth Mission Impossible movie cast flickering lights on the audience, giving Itachi enough light to find Kisame. He was sitting smack in the middle of the theater, big bag of popcorn balancing on his lap, one arm thrown across the empty seat next to him. Itachi made his way quickly across the row of chairs, frowning at the people who refused to move their feet so he could get by. Rude.

“Glad you could make it,” Kisame murmured in his ear as he took a seat. “You missed a really great trailer for this movie based on the same story as Moby Dick.”

Itachi snorted despite himself, raising an eyebrow. “Moby Dick? Are you trapped in the seventh grade?”

“Hey—it’s a classic.”

“Don’t pretend to read.”

Someone behind them made a shushing noise in a far louder voice than they were speaking in the first place.

Kisame would have flipped them off, but he figured Itachi might disapprove.

Itachi settled down in the chair, picking a piece of popcorn off the giant mound on Kisame’s lap.

There were a couple more trailers to get through—all of which Kisame seemed completely entertained by.

“It’s like watching a bunch of small little movies all in a row,” he explained when he saw Itachi shake his head.

When the movie finally started, he stretched his legs out in front of him, exposing his bad posture through his ever slumped back. Every now and again, he snagged some buttery popcorn from Kisame, using his tongue to dislodge the flimsy kernel shells that got caught against his teeth.

There was something of a weird vibe between them in the darkness of the theater room. When the brightness of the onscreen snow produced sufficient light, Itachi took the opportunity to glance at Kisame. He looked tense, for some reason, and he clearly didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he kept them on the popcorn bucket. Itachi didn’t know if it would be appropriate to try to hold Kisame’s hand, or encourage him to put his arm around him, or _what_.

He really didn’t know what to do on dates, but he was fairly certain that a complete state of separation was a little odd.

The theater was a pretty nice one, and gave each chair their own set of armrests. Both of theirs were pushed down in the middle, so when Kisame propped his arm up, Itachi followed suit. They weren’t holding hands, but there arms were pressed against each other’s.

Itachi thought it was good enough, and if the subtle relaxation in Kisame’s muscles were anything to go by, he agreed.

Itachi got pretty wrapped up in the movie, and it flew by more or less. When the room lit back up at the end, Itachi had to rapidly blink to adjust his eyes. Kisame chuckled and gave him a cheery smile when they made eye contact. They followed the line of people exiting the room; Kisame tossed the now empty—spare for the layer of waxy butter and un-popped kernels—bag into the trashcan, nodding at the tired looking teenager with the broom who slipped past them to clean the theater before the next showing.

Itachi had a little bit of a skip in his step as they reemerged into the main lobby, the sides of the incredibly high ceiling room decorated in upcoming advertisements and character cutouts.

 “So, for that spectacular third date should I be getting us plane tickets to Nepal?”

The sound that escaped from Itachi could only be described as a giggle-snort, and he muffled it into Kisame’s shoulder, gripping onto his hand. Kisame’s thick arm wrapped around his shoulders, squeezing him for a moment.

“Dinner?” he inquired, pushing the heavy doors open for Itachi, dropping his arm.

The air outside was cold, and there was a slight wind. It blew the hair around Itachi’s face, tendrils of ink brushing against a porcelain canvas. Itachi’s eyes were bright.

“We’re splitting the cost,” Itachi reminded, walking backwards so he could face Kisame.

Kisame grinned a little. “If you insist. I technically should still foot the bill, since I called you out here….”

Itachi raised an eyebrow at him.

“But we’re splitting.”

They only had to exit the parking lot and cross the street to get to the restaurant, so it didn’t take long at all. Itachi’s fingers stayed knotted in his coat the whole time—Sasuke would never let him hear the end of it if he came back with cold hands again. The restaurant was a little small, a very homey vibe to it. The wood of the chairs and booths were painted a dark blue that had faded over years of use. You could see long cracks split down the legs of the chairs, and the paint at the top of the high booth backs were chipping off. Kisame requested a booth in the back room, where it was quieter.

“Did you like the movie?” Kisame asked as they slid onto the laminated blue cushions across from each other.

“I’ve read a book on the same event,” Itachi answered, redoing his ponytail. “But yes, I did. I’ve always found that sort of thing intriguing.”

“You probably know way more than the producers of the movie even knew. Probably could point out everything they did wrong.”

“Stop,” Itachi laughed.

“Stop what?”

“Pretending I’m so smart, giving me too much credit, etcetera, etcetera.”

“I call things as I see them,” Kisame replied with that ever present grin. “And I’m not a liar.”

“Not a liar? Earlier I recall you spouting something about reading Moby Dick.”

“That was the utmost truth.”

Itachi rolled his eyes. “At the sushi restaurant you confessed that you hate reading.”

“I make exception for all things cetacean.”

Itachi hummed. “That’s right, you are very…of the ocean.”

Kisame snorted at his description. “I was raised on an island. It’s in my blood. People don’t appreciate the ocean enough, too busy staring at their fancy canyons and face carved mountains.”

“Hey,” Itachi chided, “canyons are nothing to sneeze at.”

Kisame leaned forward. “Okay, but have you ever seen an _underwater_ canyon?”

“No.”

Kisame shook his head. “Puts that fancy rock shit to shame.”

Itachi rolled his eyes.

“You think I’m shitting you?” Kisame tapped his finger on the table. “That’s it. For the third date I’m taking you scuba diving.”

“You scuba dive?”

Kisame grinned, and reached down into his back pocket, pulling out his folded leather wallet. He retrieved a card and tossed it across the table.

“Padi?” Itachi asked, picking it up and cocking his head to the side.

“Professional Association of Diving Instructors.”

Itachi raised both of his eyebrows. “You _teach_ people how to scuba dive?”

“You’re surprised?”

“I’m _impressed_!”

“Oh, well, in that case,” Kisame said in a jokingly cocky voice, laughing at the end. “I also take people out in guide groups. Not through any company, just localized back home.”

Itachi smiled a little bit. “That’s really cool, Kisame, I mean it.”

A waiter stopped by, then. She was a chipper girl, with layered brown hair up in a high ponytail and skinny jeans. Her deep green apron matched her eyeshadow.

“Welcome to Oscar’s! My name is Amber and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.” She passed out floppy plastic menus, the lamp light above the table glinting off of her green nail polish. “How are to two of you doing?”

“We’re doing well,” Kisame responded with a grin.

“Fantastic! Can I get either of you anything to drink?”

Kisame gestured to Itachi.

“I’ll just have water,” he answered politely.

“I’ll take a coke, no ice.”

“I’ll get that right to you!” She responded, before essentially bouncing out of the room.

When Itachi looked up from his menu, Kisame was staring at him with a…strange intensity in his gaze, though the trademarked grin still lingered on his lips.

“What?” Itachi asked.

“Nothing.” Kisame looked down, an unusual smile on his face. “What were we talking about again?”

“I believe you were wooing me with your scuba diving skills.”

“Yes, I was, wasn’t I?” He laughed again. “I actually do think that you would enjoy it, although you I’m guessing you would prefer the warm Caribbean waters over anything on the American coast.”

“Observant. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that wasn’t backhanded.”

Kisame waved a dismissing hand. “Please, I’ll go to Little Cayman or Turks and Caicos anytime. There’s nothing wrong in wanting the very best.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Itachi responded lightly, feeling the corners of his lips relax into a slight smile.

Amber came back, perhaps with more energy this time, and set their drinks in front of them. “Ready to order?”

Itachi got a bowl of tortilla soup, to keep him warm. Kisame ordered some multi-layer wet burrito monstrosity, which Itachi was pretty sure he and Sasuke could share over a weeks’ time.

“Please split the check,” Itachi reminded the bubbly waitress as she left to put their orders into the kitchen.

Kisame grumbled something.

“Why are you complaining?” Itachi asked, taking a swallow of his water.

“Not complaining. Just feels wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“I told you right? I treat the people I ask out. It feels wrong to ask someone out to a restaurant that I picked, on a date that I suggested…and then force them to pay for it.” He scratched the back of his head, and Itachi’s eyes flicked from Kisame’s face to the tattoos that crept over his collar bone as they were exposed slightly from the movement.

“I don’t mind,” Itachi reassured gently. “After all, it’s not like you forced me here.” He pressed his lips together. “I was looking forward to this.”

Kisame looked up, a softer grin replacing the slightly predatory one he usually wore. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Itachi repeated, rolling his eyes. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

Kisame laughed a little. “I know. You’re right. Still, old habits die hard, right?”

Itachi nodded a little.

There was a moment of comfortable silence.

“Tell me, if you are so married to the sea, why did you decide to move to the States?”

Kisame shrugged a little. “I don’t know, it felt like the right thing to do. Always loved architecture, came here to study for it and ended up landing a job I love. It just kind of happened, but I’m happy to be here.”

Itachi tilted his head. “That’s kind of…strange.”                                                                 

“Strange?”

“That you would so appreciate man made beauty…yet have in internal appreciation for nature.”

Kisame shook his head. “Where do you think artists get their inspiration, Itachi? Natural things.”

Itachi looked at him for a moment. “I guess you’re right.”

Kisame grinned.

“Still, and forgive me if this off puts you, but I find it hard to visualize you sitting behind a blueprinting desk sketching all day. I see you…deep sea crab fishing, like those guys on the Discovery Channel.”

Kisame laughed surprising loudly at that. “Shit, I don’t want to _die,_ Itachi!” He chuckled. “But, yeah, I get that a lot. Don’t really look like an office type, do it?” He shrugged. “That’s alright. I wouldn’t change anything about how I look.”

“Me neither,” Itachi murmured without thinking.

Kisame’s eyes snapped to his, wide smile growing on his face. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Itachi corrected quickly, internally blinking at what he just said. Was that a Freudian slip? Where did that perfect control of his go to?

Kisame looked very happy, to Itachi’s annoyance.

Kisame teased him practically until Amber came back with their orders. When Itachi smelled the dishes, his stomach started to growl. She brought along the complementary chips and salsa, too, which Itachi didn’t know if he would be able to eat or not. Kisame, on the other hand, looked delighted.

“How hot is that?” Itachi asked, nodding towards the stone bowl of salsa as he added the cheese, onions, and avocado to the top of the hot broth.

“Hot enough to be good,” Kisame responded, using a crisp tortilla chip to scoop up a giant mound of salsa. The crunch as he bit into it seemed to fill the entire room.

Itachi raised a delicate eyebrow.

“It’s so fuckin’ good, Itachi,” Kisame insisted around the mouthful.

“You eat like an animal,” Itachi commented, delicately mixing  his soup.

“I’m hungry like an animal.”

Itachi pursed his lips, reaching across the table to gingerly pick up a chip and dip it in salsa. He frowned at it for a moment before biting into it and chewing. Almost _instantly_ his tongue began to glow with the spice from the peppers, and he found himself coughing as he tried to swallow.

“That’s _hot!_ ”

Kisame was laughing, so Itachi stole his coke and took a giant couple of gulps to calm his mouth down.

Kisame was still laughing.

“Excuse me for not being able to handle spicy foods like you can.”

“It’s not even that spicy, Itachi.”

Itachi rolled his eyes, spooning up some soup.

Kisame chuckled one more time before digging into his burrito.

“I don’t get why anyone would order a burrito that you can’t eat with your hands. What’s the point?”

“The point?” Kisame shook his head, the movement causing reflections of light off of his earrings. “The point is that it’s fucking delicious. Here,” he said, practically sawing into his burrito, what with how big it was, and stabbing some onto his fork. “Try this.”

Itachi blinked at it for a second, realizing that Kisame was asking him to eat off the fork. How…couple-y. Never the less, he leaned across the table and took a bite, licking the sauce off of his lips as he rested  back into the cushion behind him.

“Well?”

“Not bad,” Itachi conceded lightly. “But I don’t know how you eat all that.”

“I’m the eighth wonder of the natural world.”

Itachi snorted with a small smirk, but—part of him agreed a little bit.

Dinner went on, and Kisame did miraculous job of keeping the conversation flowing while stuffing his face with an endless amount of food. He called for two more bowls of salsa, too, and Itachi decided he was best just accepting Kisame’s habits instead of trying to understand them.

“Tell me a cool scuba diving story,” Itachi suggested, poking a shredded piece of chicken in his soup with the metal spoon.

“A cool one? Hmm.” Kisame chewed for a moment. “Well, all of them are pretty cool, if you think about it. But I guess one of the most memorable ones was when I was in Little Cayman over Christmas. I was with a couple of friends from back home, one of my childhood buddies, his brother, and his brother’s girlfriend. There were only like two other people in the group, and originally I was just going to take them off on my own since I’m trained to, right? But the boat guide brings out a spear gun to hunt lionfish.”

“ _Lionfish_?” Itachi asked incredulously. “Those are gorgeous, why would you hunt them?”

Kisame pointed his fork at Itachi. “The Caribbean has in infestation problem. Lionfish aren’t indigenous to the reefs. They think that they were tossed over during hurricane Andrew, since people on the islands found them in their swimming pools and whatnot. Anyways, they eat everything. _Everything_. Adult fish, eggs, the coral itself. An adult male can clear 20 square feet of reef a day. They’re destroying the reefs faster than conservationists know how to work with. Scuba divers regularly spear them as they see them, but it seems like a downhill battle. Go one hundred and some odd feet down the wall, you’ve got lions the size of dinner plates.”

“Is the reef going to be okay?” Itachi asked, frowning.

“It better be. They’re trying to train the grouper and snapper to naturally hunt the lions, so hopefully we’ll have some way of slowing them down. But anyways, we get into the water and the guide starts spearing the fish. All the red snapper come out of and start eating at them, spines and all. CoolestThe wall is beautiful, of course, so we’re all having a good time. And then, these three big ole Caribbean reef sharks come out of nowhere and start snatching up the lionfish.  Three of them, gliding through the water like they’re made of silk.” He leaned back, shaking his head. “I swear they’re the most beautiful creatures on the planet.” He looked at Itachi. “Well, second to you, of course.”

Itachi ignored the comment. “They didn’t hurt you?”

“Hurt? No. Thing about sharks is that they aren’t blood crazed killers like people love to pretend. They’re predators, of course, but they really don’t want anything to do with humans. One of them, though, oh it was special. Gorgeous thing rubbed against me like a cat. I just nearly thought I would die of happiness.”

“You love sharks,” Itachi commented the obvious.

Kisame grinned. “What tipped you off?”

“Besides the shark tooth necklaces and earing?”

Kisame laughed. “Found these on the beach at my home village. Beautiful, aren’t they? Had my sister-in law create jewelry out of ‘em for me. Never take em off.”

“You _really_ love sharks.”

“Yeah,” Kisame conceded with something of a goofy grin. “They’re underappreciated.”

“And endangered, correct?” Itachi tilted his head to the side. “Hasn’t shark finning wiped out like ninety percent of most shark species?”

Kisame was almost vibrating. “Oh, fuck, fuck I _knew_ there was a reason I liked you so much!” He leaned over the table a bit. “Did you know that humans annually cull over 100 million sharks a year? _100 million_.” He shook his head. “They’re destroying the ocean. People don’t understand how vital sharks are to a balanced oceanic ecosystem. And for what? A tasteless chunk of meat!”

“I thought shark fin soup was a delicacy?”

“It is, but not for the flavor of the shark meat. It has no flavor. They use pork and chicken and beef to make a broth to put it in.” Kisame threw his hands up. “Just eat the fucking pig itself and leave the sharks alone, dammit!”

Itachi started laughing.

“It’s not funny.”

“I know, I know, you’re just acting cute.”

Kisame cracked a little smile. “Yeah? I get pretty heated over things I care about.” He shook his head. “Don’t even get me _started_ on Seaworld.”

Itachi raised an eyebrow.

Kisame’s facial expression went blank for a moment. “Do you _not know_?”

“Should I?”

Kisame ran both of his hands through his hair. “That’s it, it’s decided. For the third date we’re watching Blackfish.”

Itachi laughed again, a little louder this time, and he pressed his wrist against his lips to stifle it. “You know, I almost think that you haven’t planned anything for the spectacular date with how much you’re changing it. Are you leading me on?”

Kisame grinned. “Obviously not. I just keep thinking of better plans.”

Itachi rested his cheek against his hand, fiddling with a sugar packet.

“What’s that smile?” Kisame asked, tilting his head.

“I like that about you,” Itachi murmured in reply. “I like how passionate you are about it.” He let his eyes flick up to meet Kisame’s gaze.

Kisame rested his chin on his folded arms on the table. “I like you, too.”

Itachi blinked, a little surprised, but Kisame just grinned. It was oddly reassuring, Itachi thought.

“So…what does this mean?” Itachi asked.

“Hm?”

“Like…what do we do with this.”

Kisame snickered. “We don’t have to ‘do’ anything with it, Itachi.” He lifted his head up and looked at Itachi with a very honest gaze. “This is fine, slow is fine. We can just hang out. What happens, happens. I’m not pushing anything.”

Itachi looked down at his hands. They fidgeted in his lap. Impersonating the butterflies dancing in his belly, he guessed.

“Besides, anything I get with you is special.”

Itachi had a slight glare. “You’re going to have to stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Talking about me like that. Referring to me like I’m something so important.”

Kisame pursed his lips. “What if that’s just what I think?”

Itachi look up at the ceiling. “I just don’t like it when people act that way. I don’t want people to treat me like I’m special or out of the ordinary. I’m not a prize.”

Kisame wasn’t wearing a smile for the first time all evening. “I think you’re special,” he said quietly. “Not because of your looks. Not because you’re a prize. I genuinely think you’re special.”

Itachi closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “I literally do not understand.”

Kisame cracked a small grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re pretty bad at taking compliments, huh?”

Itachi opened one eye to glare. “I don’t like being confused.”

“I can work on that,” Kisame joked.

Itachi shifted. “Sorry. Looks like I’m building a track record of making things awkward on our dates.”

Kisame shook his head. “Don’t apologize. It’s a curious thing, though. Most everyone else I have ever met likes being complimented.”

Itachi shrugged. “I’m not used to that type of behavior. It’s never honest, I guess. Even Sasuke, though I know he doesn’t think ill of me, masks his kindness through double edged bullying. Genuine compliments…make me really uncomfortable, to be completely honest.”

Kisame laughed. “You might need to get used to it. I promise I won’t be so bad.” He winked, and Itachi smiled despite himself.

Looking down at his phone, Kisame said, “It’s getting kind of late, yeah?”

Itachi nodded a bit reluctantly. “Yeah, I should take off.” He had told Sasuke that he would be getting home late, so hopefully he wouldn’t bombard him like last time.

They both paid, Itachi in cash and Kisame with a credit card. The few minutes they waited for her to return Kisame’s card was soaked in a comfortable silence. It felt a little bit unreal to Itachi, that after so long he would find someone else he connected with, someone he felt attracted to. In all honesty, he had been more or less resigning to the fact that he would probably never date again. No, he wasn’t melodramatic at all.

Itachi pulled his jacket tight around him as they exited the restaurant, feeling the cold bite into his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

“I’ll walk you to your car?” Kisame suggested.

Itachi shook his head. “There were no more parking spaces when I got to the theater, and the entire street was lined with cars, so I had to park all the way over on Fifth.”

“I don’t mind walking, Itachi.”

Itachi was going to have to start finding excuses for why he needed to take the bus, so he could avoid awkward situations like this. “It’s not even a big deal. I’ll walk by myself just fine.” He sniffed. “My parents had me learn traditional Japanese martial arts from when I was a toddler to when they passed away when I was thirteen. I can put someone in their place if I need to.”

“I believe you,” Kisame grinned. “But maybe I just didn’t want to say goodbye yet?”

Itachi rolled his eyes. But he was smiling.

Kisame’s grin was utterly infectious.

“I’ll talk to you later, Kisame.”

Kisame gave him a little smile and a wave. It was decidedly awkward, Itachi thought as he turned away from his date, that neither of them really knew how to say goodbye. Most couples kissed by the second date, didn’t they? He didn’t think that they were there yet. He wasn’t there yet. He didn’t give out kisses so early or so easily, but…the attraction certainly was there. No doubt .

He had to wait for the bus for a few minutes. There were a couple of other movie goers at the bench with him. One of them was smoking a cigarette, and Itachi’s face nearly turned purple with how hard he was trying not to cough.

As he sat on the cold metal, which nearly sapped all the warmth out of his body, he thought about how Kisame made him feel. It was weird, more than anything, that they had only been around each other for a handful of hours, yet Itachi was almost entirely comfortable around him. Yeah, he was lying about his financial standing, just because it wasn’t the right time to get into that, he felt. But there was something so unmistakably genuine about Kisame.

He was sure that he wasn’t wasting his time for once. Kisame wasn’t going to be like the others, Kisame wasn’t going to treat him like an object and fuck him over for the bazilionth time.

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back, facing the sky.

God, he hoped he was right.

Sasuke would never let him out of the house again otherwise.

\--

It had been almost a week since their last date. They texted regularly, now, and talked on the phone every so often. Kisame called him on lunch breaks to bother him, or bug him after work. Itachi couldn’t remember half the stuff they talked about, but they never ran out of conversation, and it never got old.

He was quite enjoying Kisame’s good morning and goodnight texts, too.

Friday afternoon he decided to have some fun. He dialed up Kisame’s number, leaning against the freshly cleaned kitchen counter.

“Itachi?”

“Hey.”

“Well, what a pleasant surprise.” He chuckled. “What’s up?”

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Tonight? Uh, probably dishes.”

Itachi sighed. “I’m asking you out, Kisame.”

There was a moment of silence. “I’m really town between flattered as hell and frustrated, because you _know_ I was supposed to make our next date special….”

Itachi shrugged. “You’ve made me impatient.” Mostly for Kisame’s benefit, he added, “Besides, I really want to see you again.”

“Heh, yeah. To be honest, I’ve been making excuses to try and see you again all week.” Itachi twisted the end of his ponytail around his fingers. “What do you have planned?”

“Nothing much, honestly. There’s a group of local indie artist who are performing down at The Grind. I’ve heard really great things about this one composer who’s showing up. I know it’s kind of low-key, but—”

“No, no, it sounds great. What time?”

“It starts at eight.”

“Need me to pick you up?”

“That won’t be necessary, but thank you. Suigetsu and Sasuke are going to a mall in Orangewalk, so I’m catching a ride with them to and from.”

Kisame chuckled. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

The car ride over to The Grind was a riot. Suigetsu turned up the music so loud Itachi had to cover his ears. He yelled along with the lyrics, drumming the rythyms on his steering wheel. Sasuke seemed strangely passive about it; Itachi guessed he was used to it. They finally made it to the venue, a smaller section of a big brick building in the downtown. As Itachi left the car, Suigetsu called out profanities and innuendos to him. Sasuke smacked Itachi upside the head.

The Grind was mostly full when Itachi slipped through the doors. The small wooden stage in the corner was cluttered with instruments, lights, and microphones. Various people, both staff members and performers, were bustling around making sure everything was in order before it started. Itachi wormed his way through the crowd to some couches in the middle. There were little circular tables to the right of him and a pool table to the left. Lots of people were standing around, mingling as they drank their coffee or teas. Itachi felt awkward sitting alone.

Kisame saved him from himself. He looked especially big in the small room, large shoulders and chiseled face.

Itachi’s whole mood skyrocket the moment he saw him.

“Hey,” he breathed as Kisame sat down next to him, reaching a hand out towards him.

Kisame grinned, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “Nice place; I’ve never been here before.”

Itachi smiled sweetly, settling back into the cushions.

They talked for the few minutes before the show started, idle chit chat about their days and their upcoming plans. A man walked on stage, and acoustic guitar thrown over his back, and tapped the microphone, announcing the start of the show.

The lights were dimmed down to a calming blue color, different shades casting interesting shadows across the two of them. Itachi looked over under his lashes at Kisame. The lights blended beautifully with his hair, and they bounced a breathtaking contrast across his dark skin. Kisame felt his eyes on his face, and looked over with a grin.

Itachi grabbed Kisame’s hand, which was laying on his knee, and pulled it around his shoulders so he could rest against his chest. Kisame was initially shocked, if the stiffening of his body was anything to go by, but he melted quickly against Itachi, giving him a tight squeeze of the shoulders. He took Kisame’s other hand, holding it between both of his. There were rough calluses on the bottom of his hand, and a thick, old one on his right ring finger on the last knuckle—an indication that he held is pencil wrong. His nails were clean and trimmed, not a speck of dirt under the blunt edges.

Itachi closed his eyes as he relaxed to the music. The singers, for the most part, had salty voices and rasped out throaty verses about life complexities and love itself. It was soothing, and Kisame’s arm, heavy over his shoulders, made him feel warm and—safe.

The night went by at just the right speed. Kisame’s other arm ended up wrapping around to hold onto Itachi’s waist, his thumb rubbing absent patterns against him in the fabric there. They ordered hot chocolate, which delighted Itachi with childish glee, part way through the performances. Towards the end, they engaged in conversation with another couple there, a sweet girl with sporadic, curly hair and a stone faced man with just the right amount of facial hair. They were there on their anniversary; they had gotten married just the year before. He was an accountant for an engineering firm—and Itachi didn’t know if he could think of any job that was more fitting for this man—and she worked at a high school.

Kisame got up to use the restroom, and the girl, Maria, scooted over to sit with Itachi.

“You know,” she said matter-of-factly, “you two look like you have been dating for months, not just a few days.”

“We’re—not really dating,” Itachi corrected.

She raised her eyebrows.

“We’ve been out a couple times but—he isn’t my boyfriend, or anything like that.”

She tilted her head back and forth, like she was weighing possibilities. “It’ll happen,” she said simply, pushing part of the curly mane behind her ear.

Itachi only shrugged.

“You should go for it!” Maria encouraged. “There’s a connection, anyone can see that. Especially me, since I’m a guidance counselor.”

Itachi thought that was pretty fitting. “I don’t have the best luck with boyfriends, so I’m going slowly. Neither of us are rushing for anything.”

Maria nodded. “I’ve had some back luck myself. The man I thought I was going to marry stole my car, credit cards, my dog—but don’t worry, I got him back—and skipped town with my cousin. But then I found _Alec_ ,” and she looked at her husband, “and I’d never been so sure of anything.”

Itachi chuckled. “I don’t suppose you’re trying to guidance council me right now?”

She giggled, touching his knee quickly like they were sharing some marvelous joke. “Never!” More seriously, she added, “I can see it, you know, your hesitation.”

Itachi blinked.

“The way you react every time he touches you, everything you say—it’s molded with careful consideration. And that’s okay. But don’t let your fears ruin a good thing, ya know?” She smiled. “I thought I could never love again after my break up, but I can’t see myself anywhere else than where I am now.”

“I’ve never thought I couldn’t love again.”

Maria ran a hand through her hair. “Well, regardless, I’m rooting for you. Do you want my number? I know I’m only a high school counselor, but if you ever needed advice, I’d love to help!” She was so excited, bouncing in her seat as she was, that Itachi couldn’t refuse.

Kisame came back, and Maria flounced back to her husband’s side at the table. Kisame raised an eyebrow as he settled on the couch. “What was that about?” He asked.

“Nothing much,” Itachi replied, smiling a little as Kisame automatically put his arm across his shoulders. “Just making friends.”

Kisame chuckled. “She’s kinda cute, huh?”

“Very energetic,” Itachi added.

A few songs later and the show officially ended. People stayed and lingered around the artists, complimenting them on their music and buying their albums. As Kisame and Itachi made ready to leave, Maria bounced over and hugged them both excitedly.

“Don’t forget, if you ever need me!” She whispered loudly in Itachi’s ear. “We can go on a double date sometime!”

From a distance a few feet away, Alec nodded silently at both of them.

Itachi thought that they would get along pretty well.

They slipped out of the remaining crowd of people and onto the street by the building, walking side by side but not touching. They leaned against a bike rack railing, talking absently about what songs they like and who they thought had the best voices. Kisame had that husky chuckle in his voice, and kept grinning up at the black sky.

After a few minutes of idle chit chat, Suigetsu’s familiar car honked from the curb.

“That’s my ride,” Itachi murmured, straightening.

Kisame grinned, running a hand over his hair. “I’ll talk to you soon,” he promised.

Itachi hesitated in front of him, wondering what he should do next, but Kisame made that call for him. He reached out and pulled Itachi against his chest, hugging him tightly for a few moments.

Suigetsu honked again, and Kisame released him. “Sheesh, when did my cousin get so impatient?”

“Most likely that was Sasuke,” Itachi replied sheepishly, imagining him reaching over the passenger seat to slam the horn.

Kisame snorted. “Okay, well, hurry up before he runs me over.”

Itachi had _really_ thought that Kisame would kiss him that night, and as he looked out at the blurring pavement as Suigetsu sped at least 20 miles an hour over the speed limit, he pondered what Maria had said.

His stomach was fluttery.

Sasuke twisted around in the passenger seat to look at him. “How was it?”

“Fun,” Itachi answered, but his voice sounded off even to him.

Sasuke frowned. “Did something happen?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Promise?”

Itachi smiled at him, eyes soft. “I promise, baby brother. Nothing happened. I’m just thinking, is all.”

Sasuke hummed, but let it drop.

Itachi took a really long shower that night; the warmth made his arms and legs feel like noodles, and his long, wet hair stuck to his back. Sasuke was feeling extra affectionate, and climbed into Itachi’s bed to towel dry and brush Itachi’s hair out. He asked Itachi about the date, about what Kisame did and how he acted. Itachi assured him he was nothing but sweet.

“You’re going out again, I’m assuming?”

Itachi leaned back into Sasuke’s chest. “He promised to call.”

Sasuke hugged his brother, then, and though he didn’t say anything, Itachi could feel it, as if it was vibrating out of Sasuke’s tense arms and straight into Itachi’s heart. All his worries, and hurts, and hopes.

“You deserve to be happy,” he eventually whispered.

Itachi smiled, twisting back to make eye contact. “Who says I’m not happy?”

“I can see it,” Sasuke replied. “You’re content. You’re complacent. But you aren’t happy.”

Itachi twisted his mouth to the side. “And are you?”

“Yeah,” Sasuke replied honestly, voice gruff. “I really am. I know shit has happened,” he took a breath, “but I have you, and all my friends, and I don’t hurt over it anymore.”

“And your boyfriend?”

Sasuke grinned. “Naruto is a work in progress.”

Itachi chuckled, feeling the ball tipped bristles of the brush run over his scalp again, and then down his back.

“Do you even know what it feels like to be truly happy? Have you ever been truly happy?”

“You make me happy.”

“No, I make you worried.”

Itachi snorted. He didn’t really know what Sasuke was getting at, didn’t know what he was supposed to say. But he was too tired for a conversation like this right now.

Sasuke seemed to get it. He kissed the top of Itachi’s head and left the room, setting the hair brush on the dresser.

Itachi collapsed into his pillows, too exhausted to think about anything else before he fell asleep.

\--

There was a lot of build up for the fourth date. Itachi had been wondering what was in store, anxious both in excitement and worry. It had been put off more than once, on both their ends, but Kisame always acted like he was going to come out of nowhere towing a pyramid of Gyza behind him on a wagon as a surprise. Or something equally extravagant. How it ended up going down, however, was a drunken phone call where Kisame called him pretty a dozen or so times, and then another phone call a few days later in which Kisame tried to sloppily excuse his actions. He confessed that he had no idea what to do for their fourth date, and when Mangetsu came over to drink, he had a couple too many tequila shots, got some brilliant idea, and tried to ask him out right again right then and there.

It was a bit of floundering on Kisame’s end, and though Itachi enjoyed every single minute of it, he took pity on him.

“Kisame,” he had said patiently, “you don’t need to prove anything to me with some over the top date. I’m fine just hanging out with you. You should know by now, I air on the side of low-key.”

That only inflated Kisame’s ego a little bit.

The made an agreement to meet at the Brookstone park just a mile or two down from Itachi’s apartment complex. Kisame originally had wanted to pick him up, but Itachi still wasn’t sure if he wanted to clue Kisame in on at all about where he lived or, ultimately, how he lived. It wasn’t that he thought Kisame was transparent enough to dump him for a thin wallet—he was just a private person, and though it was beyond Sasuke, he had always been sensitive about his financial situation. Mostly because he felt like a failure for not being able to better provide for Sasuke.  And that was _definitely_ a half-batshit demon of Itachi’s head Kisame was not ready to quite yet meet.

 _So,_ Itachi made an excuse that he was already going to be out, and there was no point in driving all the way home only to retrace his steps. It was a waste of gas. Climate change, and all that. Anything that was an excuse. He had a feeling, the more and more he lied to Kisame, the more suspicious he became, but it didn’t stop him. There was a very slight, slight possibility that Itachi had a problem with lying. Just a slight one.

Kisame left the contents of the date as a surprise. He was determined to make this special, and Itachi thought that was sweet but—ultimately, he didn’t want it to be too big of a deal. Itachi felt little pustules of anxiety lining his stomach, because the bigger the build up, the bigger the crash if I was all a disappointment. For both of them.

Saturday afternoon found Itachi walking to Brookstone. He was about halfway there when he figured that, even though it was hot outside, especially under the glaring sun, he didn’t know what Kisame had planned, or how late they would be out. And he hadn’t brought a jacket along, specifically because of aforementioned heat. Alas, it was too late to turn around. Maybe if he starting rubbing his fingers now, they would be warm by the time he got home.

He only waited seven minutes, perched on the stone bench at the entrance of the park. A big, rust colored truck rolled up by the curb, and Itachi hopped up lithely from the bench and made his way towards the car.

“Hey, beautiful,” Kisame said—grin in place, of course—as Itachi closed the car door behind him.

“Hi,” he replied, buckling his seatbelt. “Do I need to be telling Sasuke not to press kidnapping charges? Or are you going to tell me where we’re going.”

Kisame laughed heartily, pulling away from the curb and merging into the light traffic of the street. “Already? I haven’t even had time to ask how your morning has been.”

Itachi sighed patiently. “Go ahead.”

A chuckle. “How was your morning, Itachi?”

“It was fine. Slow, didn’t do much. I watered all of my plants. My orchids are blooming.”

“Orchids?” Kisame raised an eyebrow.

“A gift from a student. How was _your_ morning?”

Kisame grinned. “Too slow. Far too slow.”

“Because…?”

“Why do you think?” Kisame looked over at him as they approached a red light. “I’ve been anticipated this all day.”

“Anticipating what, exactly?” Itachi prodded lightly.

Kisame snorted. “Not that easy. I don’t want you to know what we’re doing until we arrive at the designated location.”

Itachi sent him a pointed look. The light turned green.

“Fine,” Kisame groaned, switching lanes so they could merge onto the freeway. “I’ll tell you if you really need to know.”

Itachi’s brows furrowed, noticing the freeway sign. “Why are we going south?” There wasn’t hardly anything south of their current town, at least until San Rose—but that was way far away. That was near the beach, there’s no way….

“…Are we going to San Rose?” Itachi asked, eyebrows raising.

Kisame grinned. “Is that a problem?”

“No, it’s just…far.”

Kisame shrugged. “Only an hour and a half or so. If I drive fast enough, I can cut ten minutes off or so.”

Itachi frowned. “Don’t go endangering my life yet. It’s only our fourth date.” And even saying that, it felt strange to Itachi. One, that he even managed to interest Kisame long enough for a fourth date, and two, that he felt so comfortable and attracted after _only_ four dates.

“Are you taking to me to beach?” He asked, surprised.

“You’ll see.”

In the midst of the minor shock, Itachi looked down at what he was wearing. “I don’t know if I’m dressed for what you have planned.” He noted that Kisame had a hoodie thrown over the back seat, which also meant that it might be getting cold.

Kisame grinned, but there was a heavy look in his eyes. “Don’t worry. You look…very good.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I would love to reserve a hotel room for us tonight,” his grin was wicked, “but I’m guessing it’s a little too early for that, yeah?”

Itachi rolled his eyes, settling more into the seat, since he had long car ride ahead of him. “Shut up,” he muttered.

The ride to the mystery event didn’t take as long as Itachi anticipated—time really lost meaning when he was with Kisame. Itachi had never been to this particular town before. It was about twenty minutes from San Rose, the most commonly visited beach city in the area, so it had plenty of nice restaurants and jewelry shops.

Kisame pulled into a gravel parking lot across the street from a large, brilliantly designed building.

"An art museum?" Itachi asked, a happy surprise filling him.

Kisame grinned. "Not quite. The museum is closed today."

Itachi cocked his head. "Then...?"

"You said on our first date that you liked going to art festivals. Well, apparently the Ridgeway arts festival and expo is kind of a big deal." He cranked back the emergency brake.

Itachi blinked, stiffening slightly. "You took me all the way out here...for an art festival?"

"I know, it doesn't seem to make sense, but I think it'll be worth it. I've never been, but when I found it online I called a couple friends and they all raved about it."

Itachi stayed limp in the seat. "You came all the way out here for me? Just so I could go to an art show?" His voice was nearly a whisper.

"Hey," Kisame said playfully, "it isn't all about you. We're going to my favorite fish restaurant in San Rose. You'll love it, I promise." When Itachi didn’t move, he leaned over the seat. "Are you unhappy? We can do something else."

"No, no—" Itachi paused, eyes flashing to meet Kisame's for a brief moment. "No...I'm just shocked."

"Shocked? That I'm the world's best date planner? You should have known better after my last one." He winked, and Itachi felt his lips twitch into a smile despite himself. "Now c'mon, I tried really hard for this one, so at least try to enjoy it," Kisame teased.

"Of course," Itachi promised, voice incredibly sincere, however breathy it might still be.

"Then let's have a fucking great day, yeah?"

The art festival had almost everything imaginable. The stretches of displays weren’t very fancy, usually just easy ups and those long white plastic folding tables everyone always uses, but the pieces adorning them were outstanding. There were countless paintings of every medium imaginable—oil, pastel, watercolor, acrylic. There were stations with wooden and stone sculptures, and tables decorated with wire art. They passed a man with a pottery wheel, wet clay sticking to his fingers and parts of his apron as he molded the spinning brim of a vase. In front of him was an array of his creations—pots, vases, figurines, ornaments—which were plucked up by a woman next to him who used a fine tip paintbrush to add details to the already intricate designs. There was a woman creating beautiful sketches with a myriad of pencils. Each stroke of the pencil seemed to move on the canvas even after her hand stopped, and she had a decent crowd watching her work. Itachi lingered at a photography booth, ogling images that ranged from abandoned, decrepit buildings to macro images of flowers and bugs, from incredible shots of tornadoes to simple pictures of a busy down town. What filled Itachi’s heart up was a section dedicated solely to poetry, because writing was so often overlooked when people considered the arts. In the distance, perhaps on the other side of the museum, Itachi could hear live music playing. And of course, there were endless booths of jewelry.

“You can’t possibly be enjoying yourself,” Itachi murmured to his date, letting a gold necklace with a drop of Marahlago roll against his finger.

Kisame looked down at him, thinking about the little light in Itachi’s eyes that sparked whenever he saw something particularly intriguing, how he got fidgety when he really like a piece, and the way he bit his bottom lip when he was trying not to smile. “You’d be surprised,” he murmured, watching the wind dance in the fringes of Itachi’s dark hair.

Itachi spent the majority of the day drinking in every piece of artwork he could, ogling pretty canvases and sculptures, touching anything the artist allowed—whether that was a smooth curve of a marbled rock, the dusty surface of fresh pottery, a faceted gemstone on a ring, or a line of dried ridges from a painting.

Kisame spent the majority of the day looking at Itachi.

After Itachi was thoroughly mesmerized by his surrounding, he relaxed enough to reach out and grab Kisame’s hand. Once Kisame got over his initial shock, he was practically skipping as he walked next to him.

They rounded the bend of the festival grounds, heading towards the food section to grab something to eat. As the food carts and tents came into sight, the smell of fried dough and crystalized sugar wafting over them, a small building with an open door caught Itachi’s attention.

“What’s over there?” he asked, nodding.

Kisame squeezed his hand, just because he could. “Let’s go find out.”

They entered the room, which immediately took on the appearance of a workshop. To the left was what seemed to be a woodshop of some sort—there was sawdust and splinters on the ground and great big saws, and though no one was working there currently, it was clear that the area was still used regularly.

To the right was a small crowd of people gathered around a furnace. A man had along metal pole which he was poking into the fire, twisting it rhythmically. He brought it out of the fire and rolled a clear, goopy blob at the end of the pole across a metal sheet next to him, pressing one side down to shape it.

“Glass blowing,” Itachi breathed.

“You know about this?” Kisame whispered, nodding towards the display.

“My grandfather,” Itachi replied quietly. “My mother used to always tell me stories about how he was a glass blower in Japan, the best in their town. There’s a couple of pieces I still have that were made by him.”

As the watched the man mold liquid glass, Kisame rested his chin on top of Itachi’s head.

The man made a vase or two, adding chips of color into them and creating intricate patterns by rolling the molten glass over pebble-like accents. At the end he used pliers to pull out the features of the horse, selling it to a young girl who was watching the show.

They had stayed and watched him create for over an hour, and by the time he was packing up shop, both of them were getting hungry.

“Want to head out to the restaurant now?”

Itachi nodded. He had moved his hand from Kisame’s, now holding on to his entire arm.

It wasn’t a far drive to San Rose, so Itachi didn’t have to deal with a grumbly stomach thankfully. On the way over Kisame didn’t even allow room for argument about how they would pay the bill; he was footing it, and that was that. When the restaurant came into view, Itachi realized it was a good thing, because there was no way in hell that he would be able to afford such a place.

Kisame had reserved a table on the patio because of the beautiful ocean view. Itachi shivered a little as they made their way to their seats, but thankfully there were overhead heater to keep him warm. Kisame tried to get Itachi to order drinks, but he insisted that he was fine with water.

Kisame grumbled something about making sure he got alcohol in him later.

There was mostly fish on the menu, and since Itachi was inexperience with most of the dishes, he let Kisame guide his hand. Kisame got the swordfish—“It’s the best thing on the menu, and this restaurant doesn’t serve shark under the name of swordfish like some other fuckers”—and Itachi ordered the salmon. Kisame promised him that it would be good.

And it _was_. Itachi didn’t know if he had ever dined so expensively. Maybe back with his parents, when he was a kid—but even then, they never ate like this. He felt a little guilty, since he wasn’t paying his own way, but Kisame acted like he blew money like this all the time.

The view was as amazing as the food. It was right across from the ocean, only a single street separating them from the water. There was no beach here, though, just a drop off from the cliffs, and the salty ocean air wafted up from the rocks and drifted by the restaurant in the breeze. Ancient palm trees stretched up towards the sky, framing the horizon on either side as the sun set. To make everything just that much more perfect, they even got to witness the green flash.

The company was of course the best part of the evening. Itachi was still slightly hung up on how easy and wonderful it was to talk to Kisame. He had never been so relaxed around anyone _ever_ —at least, not counting Sasuke.

After dinner, Kisame wanted to see the ocean for just a minute before they left, and Itachi was so high off of the date he had no problem indulging him. They drove only a mile or so, and found a parking lot right at the edge of the boardwalk; it was getting late, so there weren’t too many people out. Itachi was cold, so Kisame let him borrow his hoodie. They sat together on the half wall at the edge of the boardwalk, their feet on the sand. They listened to the sound of the crashing waves, the water hidden in the darkness.

“I still don’t really understand,” Itachi whispered, breaking the silence.

Kisame cocked his head to the side.

“Why…you did all this for me.”

“Did you have fun?”

Itachi laughed a little, but it held no humor—it edged along the lines of overwhelmed. “Did I have fun? This was…more than I ever expected, Kisame.” He looked over, feeling Kisame’s fingers secure themselves between his. “Honestly, you deserve to reserve that hotel room, you’ve done so much for me.”

Kisame shook his head slowly, lips pursed a little. “Nah, Itachi. Sex isn’t something to be owed. I don’t know who taught you that, but they’re an asshole.” He squeezed Itachi hand. “I am glad that you enjoyed yourself so much, though.”

Itachi looked down at the sand. “I still don’t understand.”

Kisame chuckled. “Come here,” he said, releasing Itachi’s hand and holding his arm up. Itachi scooted over, letting Kisame pull him into his chest, the giant hoodie acting like a blanket. “I like you, Itachi. A lot. I’ve dated people for months and didn’t like them even half as much as I like you _now_.” He pressed his lips to Itachi’s hair. “That’s why I’m doing this for you.” He slid his other hand down Itachi’s arm to hold his hand.

And for a moment Itachi didn’t want anything else in the world but for Kisame to keep holding him like that, because at the moment it felt like Kisame was holding him _together_ , keeping him from falling apart. He could see them working out, actually being together, together, and more than anything, it scared him shitless. But he wanted it, some part of him. He wanted to come home to find Kisame laying on his couch, so that whenever he had a bad day he could hold Kisame’s hand like this. He wanted to hang out during lunch breaks. He wanted to eat his fucking instant noodles with him when he was too broke to afford real food. But _god_ —

“You’re doing it again,” Kisame whispered.

“Huh?” Itachi asked, purposefully making an effort to relax his muscles—which he didn’t even realize were tensed up to begin with. He was stressing himself out too easily.

“You’re over thinking things. I can feel it.”

“Sorry,” Itachi replied a little breathlessly. “I do that sometimes. How can you tell?”

“You got all stiff. And your eyebrows get crinkled in the middle.”

Itachi consciously tried to smooth them out. He began to pull away from Kisame, so he could talk to him, because hell if he would be able to hold everything in for too much longer. As he leaned back, though, Kisame’s arm stayed locked around his lower back like a warm bar of iron, and subsequently it kept Itachi pressed up against Kisame’s side. His breath got stuck in his throat at how close it brought their faces together.

The look on Kisame’s face let Itachi absolutely know that Kisame was going to kiss him. His fingers curled against Kisame’s arm.

“…it’s getting late,” Kisame said gruffly, releasing Itachi and leaning back.

Itachi blinked at the sudden distance, almost falling off of the ledge without the support. He shivered in the cold, despite the hoody.

“And look how cold you are,” Kisame continued, standing up with a quick smile.

Itachi got up, as well, resisting the urge to immediately press himself back into Kisame’s side.

“You ready to take off?” Kisame asked, offering a hand.

Not until you kiss me, he thought. Yet he replied, “Yeah, let’s go.”

Kisame drove more slowly on the car ride home, which Itachi was thankful for, because he honestly wasn’t ready to say goodbye. They had been together for a while, and he had enjoyed every single minute of it. The ride was also welcomed because Kisame lightened the mood incredibly. All the tension and heaviness weighing on Itachi’s chest was gone entirely by the time they were halfway home, and Itachi found himself laughing and making jokes more than he had in a long time.

Kisame had him doing a lot of things he hadn’t done in a long time.

At this point, Itachi didn’t really care if Kisame saw his apartment complex—it didn’t look that bad from the outside, anyways—so he gave him quick instruction on how to get there. Kisame voiced some surprise about how close it was to the park, but Itachi ignored the comment.

Kisame pulled into the parking lot of Itachi’s apartment and parked his truck. He climbed out of the car, slamming the door and walking around and meeting Itachi at the front. They stood in front of each other for a moment, just looking at each other. Their goodbyes always were a little awkward.

“I had fun,” Kisame murmured, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Yeah,” Itachi echoed.

“Can I take you out again next weekend? Maybe it isn’t too late for the special date.”

Itachi look up underneath his lashes. “There’s no reason to think that today wasn’t special, Kisame. But, of course.”

Kisame tapped his hand against his denim clad leg. “Alright, I’ll take off then.” He started to walk backwards, grinning. “Sleep well, Itachi, and—”

“Are you going to kiss me?” Itachi demanded.

Kisame blinked, freezing.

“Are you going to _kiss me_?” Itachi repeated.

“… Do you want me to?”

“Well, have we just been going out as _friends_?”

Kisame locked eyes with him for one very long second, and then his large hands were pressed against Itachi’s pale skin, grasp firm.

Kisame’s lips were rough.

Itachi let his hands grab onto Kisame’s shoulders. From there they moved to his neck, to his face, to his hair. Eventually Kisame picked up Itachi completely—effortlessly, at that—and sat him on the hood of his truck. He even did it without breaking the kiss.

With the new position Itachi was able to angle his head better, lips almost desperately attached against Kisame’s. Kisame was a _really_ good kisser, too.

When Itachi finally realized that he _couldn’t breathe_ he pulled away, trying to act like he wasn’t catching his breath. Kisame pressed his hands to the tops of Itachi’s thighs, catching Itachi’s bottom lip between both of his and tugging a little.

Itachi leaned back in for a few more kisses, these ones gentler. He was surprised by the intensity that had just taken place.

“So—its been years since anyone’s kissed me. But what’s your excuse?”

Kisame brushed his nose against Itachi’s cheek. “I’ve been wanting to do that since our conversation at the club.”

Itachi laughed a little, wrapping his arms around Kisame’s shoulders. “That early?”

“I’ve told you, Itachi. There’s something about you. It drives me crazy. You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to kiss you over the past couple weeks.”

Itachi leaned back a little, forcing Kisame to meet his gaze. “If you still want to kiss me, you can do it again.”

Kisame didn’t even hesitate before he closed the gap, connecting their lips again. It felt so good, having Kisame’s strong hands on his back, his hard body against him. And his _lips_. Fuck, he should have done this a while before.

Itachi let the tip of his tongue press against Kisame’s lower lip, and Kisame opened his mouth just a little, deepening the kiss only barely. Itachi knew he was trying to stay on the path of being slow, trying to be considerate and respectful. It was sweet. And frustrating.  

Kisame pulled back abruptly, knocking his forehead against Itachi’s. “Be my boyfriend.”

“What?” Itachi asked, surprised.

Kisame let his head roll back, and ran a hand through his hair with a slight edge of frustration. “Fuck, Itachi….” He trailed off. “Be my boyfriend. Date me for real. Enough of the casual stuff, enough beating around the bush. I want you so bad I don’t even know what to do with myself. Be…be my boyfriend.” He leaned his head back in, kissing Itachi’s cheek.

Itachi still wasn’t used to hearing words like that, still wasn’t completely grasping the idea of it even being true for someone.

Part of him told him to say no. A very large part, actually. He almost did, out of reflex. He almost shook his head and pushed Kisame back. ‘Sorry, I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ he would say. ‘I don’t think I’m really looking for a serious relationship right now.’ And it would probably get pretty awkward, and Kisame would laugh it off and crack some joke he didn’t really want to. And he might just leave right there, deciding that he was wasting his time and Itachi wasn’t near worth the trouble. Or, he might stick around for a little while longer, though there would always be an uncomfortable air between them. There would always be the unspoken and unanswered questions of why Kisame was still playing along, or if it would ever turn into something worthwhile. And eventually there would be some clumsy not-break-up, because there was no graceful way to unstick them from the messy situation Itachi created.

Itachi could see it all play out, and every part of it made him _sad_. He didn’t want Kisame to leave. He didn’t want things to get weird between them. He really liked what they had, and the thought of it ending filled him with such an uncomfortable feeling he almost physically squirmed.

And so he had to decide if he was going to end the only thing that had made him happy in a long time.

Part of him, of course, told him that he didn’t deserve to be happy. Another part of him said that Kisame would get bored with him soon and Itachi would have to go through that particular hurt all over again. Another part of him remembered all of his past boyfriends, and told him that someone like Kisame could do to him a lot of damage.

But Itachi wasn’t one to be scared, and he had promised Sasuke he would work harder at getting better.

The loudest voice was the one that told him to stop trying to micromanage the future, and just let things be. It sounded a lot like Kisame’s voice.

“…okay,” he said, a little smile in his words.

Kisame looked up quickly, eyes bright. “Yeah?”

“That’s what I said,” Itachi hummed, moving his hands from Kisame’s shoulders to press against both of his cheeks.

Kisame kissed him again.

Itachi pushed his fingers back into Kisame’s hair, securing his now boyfriend’s face against his. He pressed his teeth into Kisame’s lower lip, causing Kisame to squeeze his hips. Kisame’s mouth opened, and Itachi decided to be brave by slipping his tongue farther out, letting it brush against Kisame’s. His legs somehow ended up pressing tightly to his side.

“Hey,” Kisame breathed gruffly, pulling back enough so he could speak. Itachi licked his lips off and tried to keep his breathing even. “Remember how I said I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a while now?”

“Yeah,” Itachi replied.

“Let’s just say that’s not the _only_ thing I’ve wanted to do.”

Itachi raised an eyebrow. “The hotel, right?”

Kisame cracked his signature grin, playfully squeezing Itachi’s waist. “So maybe you shouldn’t kiss me like that right now. I’m already too happy.”

Itachi hummed. “Fine.” He went back in, anyways, to press one more innocent peck against Kisame’s mouth. He leaned back, letting out a breath. Kisame moved his hands to the tops of Itachi’s thighs. “So…now what?”

Kisame chuckled. “You say that a lot.” He shook his head. “Do you really gotta know everything step by step? Is planning that important to you?”

Itachi pressed his lips together.

“Sometimes you gotta live in the moment, babe.”

Itachi’s eyebrows shot up. “Babe?”

“You’re my boyfriend now.” Kisame grinned even wider, showing off all his teeth. “But, that’s beside the point.”

Itachi paused, letting his feet swing absently a couple of times, his heel bombing against the metal of the truck. The engine clicked underneath of him, still hot from the ride over. “I’m not good at that.”

“Shit, really?”

Itachi glared a little.

Kisame laughed. “It’s okay to not be good at it. I’m very good at it. So won’t you try it with me?”

Kisame’s grin was literally impossible to resist, and Itachi’s smile appeared without permission. He shrugged a little.

“I already am a fish out of water in all this; guess I should just commit.”

“You may be a fish out of water, babe, but I’m the ocean.”

“…. _what?_ ”

Kisame busted up in laughter.

“You aren’t funny. Never say anything like that ever again.” But he was laughing too, for some reason, and when Kisame met his eyes, he laughed even harder. “I’m serious, that was gross.”

“How dare you call my romantic gestures gross!”

Itachi hopped off the truck and playfully shoved Kisame’s chest. Kisame caught his hands. “I don’t like you.”

“Incorrect, you like me very much. That’s why you’re my boyfriend now.”

“You want to say that a couple more times?” Itachi asked, raising an eyebrow.

Kisame grinned. “Maybe.”

Itachi stretched up on his toes to kiss him one last time. “Okay, I should probably really go now.”

“Can I still take you out again soon?”

Itachi shrugged. “I don’t see why not. But you don’t need to do anything elaborate. I’m already dating you, right? There’s nothing you have to prove anymore.”

“Just because you’re officially mine doesn’t mean I still don’t want to treat you.”

Itachi rolled his eyes. “Alright, whatever you say.” He began to walk to the green metal staircase. “Text me, or call me, or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” Kisame quoted, his current grin possibly the biggest one yet.

“Here,” Itachi said, gesturing to the hoody. “You want this back, right?”

Kisame shook his head. “Nah, keep it for now. You can give it back some other time. You look very comfortable in it.”

Itachi rolled his eyes.

Kisame called a loud goodbye out to him and then climbed back into his truck. Itachi climbed the stairs quickly, pulling his key out of his pocket on the way up.

When he got inside of his little apartment, Sasuke was standing in the middle of the entrance room, arms crossed, glare set. Itachi noted that the blinds to the window facing the parking lot were open.

“Hello, little brother,” Itachi said lightly, fiddling with his key in one hand.

Sasuke didn’t move.

“I take it you saw that?”

Sasuke’s glare increased, and he huffed

Itachi smiled, ruffling his hair as he walked past.

“ _Itachi_.”

“What? I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“…you’re in a really good mood.”

Itachi hummed, moving to the sink to wash his hands.

“He fucked you, huh?”

Itachi blinked. “I beg your…what?” This conversation felt reminiscent.

“That’s why you’re in such a good mood. And him too. I can tell.” He didn’t at all look pleased.

Itachi laughed a little. “No, baby brother, we haven’t had sex.” He tilted his head. “You think I would so early?”

Sasuke shrugged. “It’s been a few weeks. He must be getting impatient.”

Itachi pressed his lips together, drying his hands with a towel. “Sasuke,” he began. He crossed the room the cup his face. “Kisame really isn’t like that. He isn’t giving me attention for the sex, okay? He cares about me. He likes me.”

Sasuke didn’t look impressed.

“Do you know how hard it is for me to believe that? To say that out loud without doubt?” Itachi whispered, eyebrows pinning together. “You _know_ how unfathomable that is for me. How long did it take for me to accept any love from _you?_ ” He pushed a wad of thick, black hair behind Sasuke’s ear. “If I can believe it, can’t you try to do so, as well?”

Sasuke unthawed a bit at Itachi words.

“Can you trust me?” Itachi tried. He cracked a half smile. “I know neither of us are good at that, not with each other, but…we gotta start somewhere.”

Sasuke didn’t respond.

“If you promise to try, I swear that if he hurts me I’ll help you bury the body after you kill him.”

That got a humored snort out of Sasuke, and Itachi grinned. There was a soft moment of silence. “It’s going to be okay, little brother.”

“Yeah,” Sasuke muttered. “I guess.”

“It is,” Itachi insisted with a kiss to Sasuke’s forehead.

And, for the first time in a really long time, he actually felt that—just _maybe_ it could be true.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scuba diving story really did happen to me! And all that about lionfish is completely true. If you ever get to a Carribean Island with a diving industry, you'll find restaurants serving lionfish, though they sell out pretty quickly because so many tourists want to try it. On the beaches a lot of fisher man stand by the shore and collect the fish that diver bring back and de-spike them right on the beaches. It's pretty cool. 
> 
> Also, I've seen the green flash in person! It's super duper cool, though it has to have uber specific conditions for it to occur. 
> 
> Oddly enough, I was going to have the infamous third date be a trip to Seaworld, but I detest them so much and don't want to encourage supporting them in any way....so instead I decided to talk about protecting the ocean. Sorry? I hope I didn't upset anyone by what I said! Either way, Kisame is very pro-cetacean rights. And the anti-shark-finning mascot. Duh?
> 
> I'm working out how I'm spacing these chapters, but as you might be able to tell from this atrociously long chapter I'm pretty much shit at it. Right now there's ten of them, we'll see how things go. I don't think any other chapter will be quite as long as this--it got away from me and aldkjaslglajkfk. The next chapter is like...a third of this size. I'm so sorry I can't do anything right. 
> 
> As always, all comments, criticisms, and of course compliments are welcomed and celebrated <3
> 
> I'll see you soon for the next chapter! (Much sooner than this one, I promise.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOA LOOK AT THIS
> 
> LOOK WHO GOT THIS OUT IN LESS THAN A MONTH. 
> 
> Enjoy it, because it will probably never happen again. I'm serious, I have exactly nothing of the next chapter written....hahaha..hah...hh..............................
> 
> ANYWAYS.
> 
> I still can't believe I surpassed my 25 page minimum for this. 
> 
> This chapter is kind of all over the place, I'll be the first to admit. I hope you enjoy it anyways!

In the four weeks that Itachi had officially been in a relationship again, he learned a few things about Kisame. One, he was a very tactile person. He familiarized himself with new things by feeling them. The current new and unfamiliar thing in question was Itachi, and Kisame loved to touch his hair, the gentle concave of his waist, the warm skin around his neck and shoulders. Their physical relationship was still growing, though it had already evolved by leaps and bounds. Because of this Itachi knew that Kisame was holding back; if he wasn’t, Itachi didn’t think Kisame’s hands would ever leave his body. He didn’t particularly mind the continuous affections, though he did appreciate the sentiment. Kisame had gained a lot of his physical trust, and it had been ages since anyone besides Sasuke had touched him.

Two, Kisame was easy to work with. He was understanding. He let Itachi lead the relationship, let Itachi initiate the kisses and cuddles and whatnot. It put him mad out of his comfort zone, because he wasn’t ever used to that in a past relationship, but it was reassuring to know that Kisame wasn’t going to pressure him or try to take advantage of him. Looks like he wasn’t going to owe Sasuke any more apologies.

Another thing he learned was that Kisame loved to crack really bad jokes. He had to see if he could tame that habit, somehow.

They met up every now and again, when their schedules coincided—which, regrettably, wasn’t very often. Itachi worked a lot, and even though Kisame never openly blamed or anything like that, Itachi knew that he was disappointed at how little time they were actually able to spend together. A lot of their time was spent together over the phone.

Itachi had his cell cradled in between his cheek and his shoulder, organizing some things on his desk that had been shuffled out of order.

“Babe.”

Itachi _still_ nearly shivered every time Kisame spoke in that low, throaty voice. “Hey.”

Kisame hummed. “I was just going to call you. I’ve missed you.”

Itachi smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I talked to you…” Itachi’s eyes flicked up to the ceiling, “last night.”

“I can’t miss you after a day?” Kisame chuckled. “That’s too bad. I don’t think you can stop me.”

“I’m not trying to,” Itachi assured, closing up his planner and tucking it away.

Kisame hummed, low in his throat. “Can we face time?”

Itachi sat on the edge of his bed, tugging out his hair tie and running his fingers through his hair. “Nah.”

Kisame groaned. “Why do you do this to me? I wanna see you.”

Itachi smiled. “I’m about to go to bed.”

“So let me watch you fall asleep,” Kisame suggested. “That’ll be fun.”

Itachi laughed. “I’m sure it would be.” He pulled all his hair around one side, separating it into three plaits.

He eventually relented with a groan. “What are you doing right now?” He asked.

“Braiding my hair.”

“Braiding your hair? I’ve never seen it like that.”

“Haven’t you?”

“Nope. All the more reason to face time me.”

“And here I thought you had given up.” Itachi used his teeth to pull the hairband off of his wrist. “You’re very persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“Give me facetimeeeee,” Kisame groaned, dragging out the end of the word.

Itachi tied up his braid and pulled back the covers, switching the phone to his hand.

“Why do you braid your hair?” Kisame asked, finally giving up on his righteous plight.

“To keep it from getting tangled overnight.”

“Mm, that’s a good point. So much long hair, it must take a lot to keep it healthy.”

Itachi shrugged to himself. “I probably don’t do as much as I should.” He pushed his head into his pillow. “Speaking of hair care, yours must be utterly dead, what with all the dye you smother it in.”

“Dye? Babe, this color is natural.”

Itachi snorted. “Of course it is.” He pulled back the sheets and dragged his comforter over him. “I’m wearing your hoodie, you know,” he murmured, pushing up the neckline against its cheek.

“Yeah? You’re never giving it back, are you?”

Itachi hummed, rolling over so his phone was under his cheek. “No, you’ll need to take it back soon.”

“Need to?”

“It’s starting to not smell like you anymore.”

Kisame chuckled. “How flattering. Is that why you wear it to bed every night?”

“Not _every_ night,” Itachi muttered, snuggling into the blankets around him.

“You’re so fucking cute, Itachi. What am I going to do with you?”

“You can come over here and kiss me.”

“Don’t joke about that, I’ll get in my car right now.”                            

“No, don’t,” Itachi said, but there was no assertion in his voice.

There was a moment of silence, sleep lulling along the edges of Itachi’s consciousness.

“How was your day?” Kisame grunted.

Itachi hummed. “It was fine. Tiring. It’s always so tiring.”

“Come over here. I’ll give you a reason to be tired.”

“Your attitude gives me a reason to be tired.”

“Ouch. Words hurt, Itachi.”

“Don’t they?”

“I’m serious, though. Come over to my house sometime.”

“I’ve already been to your house.”

“Yeah, like, _twice_. Why won’t you hang out with me,” Kisame groaned.

Itachi laughed lightly. “I’ll come, I promise. It’s just hard, the bus route to get there is wonky.”

“Bus route?” Kisame asked, surprised. “Why would you take the bus over driving your car?”

Itachi’s eyes opened slowly as his muscles stiffened.

_Oh._

“Uh,” he stammered, sitting up in bed. “About that…I don’t…own a car, actually.”

Kisame was quiet for a moment. “What?”

Itachi squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t own a car,” he repeated, words scratching against his throat like glass.

A pause. “Why did you tell me that you had one then.” There was rustling on the other end. “Hold on. All those elaborate parking issues that you told me. You made those up?”

“Yes,” Itachi admitted. “I took the bus all those times.”

“…why didn’t you just tell me that?”

“Well—” Itachi swallowed.  “I….”

Kisame filled his silence. “You were just lying.”

Itachi could practically hear his stomach slip down through his feet and onto the floor. “Kisame—”

“Why—would you do that, Itachi? Why would you go through all the trouble making up a story.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Kisame was really quiet for a moment. “What else have you been lying about?”

“No, _no_ ,” Itachi said quickly, “I haven’t, nothing—well—”

“ _Well_?”

“I don’t think I have?” He said breathily. “I don’t know. I lie a lot. But I don’t remember anything besides the car, so I don’t think I have. At least nothing important.”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“Kisame?” Itachi prompted worriedly.

“You lie a lot?”

“I mean…yeah. But, I just do it, because—”

The thing was, Itachi didn’t know what to tell him. He lied because he was a paranoid fuck? Because he had endless trust issues? Was he supposed to let loose that he had enough inner demons to film an Exorcist series?

Lamely, he settled with, “I’m sorry, Kisame.”

“Yeah.”

No, no. “Will you forgive me?”

“I forgive you, Itachi,” Kisame said, and it sounded earnest. But something was still off.

“But…?”

“But…I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Itachi asked, pressing a hand to his jump roping stomach.

“I just don’t know. I should go to bed now.”

“No, Kisame, talk to me.” Itachi wrinkled up his nose, fingers digging into his hoodie.  

“It’s okay, Itachi, everything’s okay. I’m just kind of pissed right now, so I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep talking to you.”

“I—okay,” Itachi conceded quietly.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Night, Itachi. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight.”

Itachi sat in bed for a few more minutes, feeling horribly uneasy. He shouldn’t have lied, he saw that clearly _now_ , but now maybe it was too late.

The thought made his throat close up.

He took a couple deep breaths—they would talk again tomorrow, and Itachi could explain, and everything would be alright. Kisame said he was forgiven, anyways. He flicked off the lamp on the nightstand and settled into bed.

He tried to sleep, he really did. His stomach was still fluttery, though, and his mind was racing. He drifted into little pockets of unrestful sleep for a couple hours, but, ultimately, it was pointless. At 1:30 or so, he sat up abruptly in bed, turning his light back on and rubbing a hand over his face. He grabbed his phone off of the stand, flicking it open impatiently and opening Kisame’s contact.

The ring of the FaceTime dialer thrummed in the quiet room.

“Itachi? Babe?” A groggy voice asked.

“Hey,” Itachi responded. He pulled his knees up, resting his chin on them.

“What’s—baby, it’s almost two in the morning, what you are doing?”

“Facetiming you,” Itachi mumbled. “I can’t sleep.”

Kisame rubbed a hand over his face, cracking one eye to glare at the screen, so bright in the dark of the room. “Why not? What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, biting his lip. “I’m really sorry, and I can’t sleep, because couples shouldn’t go to bed when they’re mad at each other.” He paused, pursing his lips tiredly. “I read that online.”

Kisame cracked a slow smile, and it felt like a million weights were taken off of Itachi’s chest. “Ah, babe—don’t worry about it. I’m not even that mad.”

“I didn’t want to lie to you,” he said tightly. “I’m just—not good at this, and I was worried. I’m…really poor, Kisame. I can barely make ends meet. I skip meals all the time, I cycle the same three pants to wear. I didn’t eat breakfast or dinner today. I forewent reading glasses for two years.” He paused. “Last summer I was one bus ride away from becoming a prostitute—”

“Itachi,” Kisame interrupted, sitting up. “You…don’t need to tell me these things. These are personal and I don’t expect—”

“I want you to know,” Itachi insisted, “I want you to know that I wasn’t lying because I didn’t trust you, or—whatever made you upset. I’m sorry.”

“ _I forgive you_.” Kisame blinked slowly at the camera for a moment. “And I understand. Will you be able to sleep now?”

“Do you mean it?”

Kisame chuckled. “Yes, Itachi, I mean it. I’m not mad at you. Lying is just kind of a soft spot to me. It’s not _okay_ , but we can talk about it in the morning. Yeah?”

“It is the morning.”

Kisame snorted.

Itachi smiled a little. “Okay. Sorry for waking you up. Sleep well.”

“Itachi.”

“Yes?”

“Promise me you aren’t gonna stress out all night.”

“Promise,” Itachi replied quietly, already feeling his muscles loosening up.

“Good. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, baby.”

“Alright. Goodnight.”

Itachi hung up and let out a deep breath. He turned the light back out, snuggling back into the covers.

He fell asleep quickly.

\--

Kisame watched the rain streak down his kitchen window. He listened to the bubble of the tomato soup on the stove, and the patter of heavy rain on the roof. Drops of water bounced off of the leaves of his bushes in the backyard, little streams of water forming in rivets of mud throughout the grass outside.

The doorbell rang.

Kisame wondered who in the ever fuck could be at his front door during the middle of a rainstorm—he hadn’t ordered any packages lately, and he didn’t think that his mailman was that dedicated.

When he opened the door, he was greeted with a drown kitten.

Not a _literal_ drown kitten, no—it was Itachi, with black hair stuck to his face, soaked clothes, and grocery bags sagging with rain water. He just looked very much like a drown kitten.

“H-hey,” Itachi started.

Kisame paused for only a moment. “ _What the—_ Itachi, what the hell happened to you?”

“I kind of got caught in the rain—”

“No _shit_ , but how—get inside!” He shouted, grabbing onto Itachi’s wrist so he could pull him out of the freezing downpour.

“N-no, It’s fine, I’ll get water everywhere—”

Kisame pulled him inside anyways, shutting the door behind him. “Stay here,” he ordered. “I’m going to get you a towel, hold on.” He disappeared down the hall, headed towards the bathroom.

Itachi shifted uncomfortably in the foyer. “Kisame, I’m getting water all over your floor.” He winced at how loud the droplets seemed to thump onto the nice wooden panels below him.

“I can clean up some damn water, Itachi,” Kisame said, reemerging into the hallway with a fluffy white towel in his arms. He wrapped it around Itachi’s shoulders and hair. “How did you get yourself into this mess?”

“I missed the bus,” Itachi said quietly, fingers twitching around the grocery bags. “I was at the market and I lost track of time. I was waiting for it to come back and it started raining—so I walked to the next stop, but there was an accident on one of the roads so it had to detour, I remembered how to get to your house from where it dropped me off, but…why are you laughing.”

Kisame cleared his throat to stifle his chuckles. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just….” He laughed again.

Itachi glared. “I can leave, if it’s a bother.”

“No, no. You know that’s not what I mean.” Kisame pressed both his hands to his face and stole a quick kiss. “Jeez, you’re a mess. Do you want to shower?”

Itachi bit his lip. “That would be…nice. If it’s okay”

“Of course. Just set your bags down here.” He motioned to the mat by the door. “The guest shower has a fucky faucet, so you can use mine upstairs. I don’t have any fancy conditioner shit, or anything, for your long hair, though.”

Itachi rolled his eyes. “I don’t have any ‘fancy conditioner shit’ either, so don’t worry.” He kicked off his shoes.

Kisame lead him up the stairs and down the hall. His bedroom was mostly white, with some soft blue tones and washed wooden furniture.

“Canopy bed?” Itachi asked, raising an eyebrow at the large, immaculately white bed with loops of soft white fabric swaying below light wooden rods.

“Ostentatious, right? I like sleeping in luxury.”

“I can tell,” Itachi murmured back.

Kisame’s bathroom was very clean; Itachi noticed, glancing appreciatively at the pristine white tiled counter and the swept floor. The glass shower was free of water spots, and there wasn’t any hair stuck to the walls or tangled on the floor. The glass door gave it…exactly no privacy.

“You have a porno shower,” Itachi muttered.

Kisame grinned widely, eyes lighting up. “Yeah? I guess you’re right. We can utilize that sometime.”

Itachi rolled his eyes, feeling water drip down his leg.

“You can get another towel from here,” Kisame said, tapping the cabinet mounted on the wall across from the sink. “And you can use whatever you want in the shower.”

“Thank you,” Itachi replied quietly. “Sorry I came by so unannounced, I would have called but I was worried about getting my phone wet.”

“Shush, Itachi. You’re fine. Besides, I’ve been begging you to come over for how long now?” He chuckled. “I’ll be downstairs when you’re done. I’ll leave some clothes that, uh, _might_ kind of fit you on my bed.”

Downstairs, Kisame turned the stove off and moved the pot so the soup could cool down. He took out some extra shepherd’s bread from the wooden breadbox and spread butter and tubed garlic on it before popping it in the toaster oven. He also filled his kettle with water and set it to heat up, rummaging through one of his cupboards for whatever packets of cocoa or tea he had laying around. Itachi’s groceries were still in the hallway, so he brought them into the kitchen and dumped any collected water out, drying anything with a rag that was too wet.

Itachi came down twenty minutes later, hair braided, to Kisame’s delight. The clothes did not fit him in any way, but it wasn’t too bad. The sweatshirt didn’t look terribly out of place, and Itachi rolled the sweatpants up enough so they didn’t drag on the ground as he walked.

“I won’t have to stay too long, I’ll call Suigetsu to come pick me up—”

“What are you talking about?” Kisame waved his hand. “Just hang out here until the rain stops.”

Itachi paused in the edge of the kitchen.

“Do you have something to get to?”

“No,” he responded.

“Then what’s the rush?”

“Well,” he fiddled with the wet end of his braid, “I don’t want to impose on you or anything.”

Kisame groaned. “Baby, can’t you just hang out with me?”

“Do you want me to?” Itachi asked very tentatively.

“…Itachi, come on. You’re way too smart for this shit.”

Itachi’s eyes flicked around the room.

Kisame crossed the kitchen. “Why would I not want you here?”

“I’m not—” He twisted his lips to the side. “It’s been a while since I was in a relationship, remember? I just…don’t want to do anything wrong.”

Kisame chuckled, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing him. “You’ve never done anything wrong. Relax. I’ll tell you if it happens.” He held on to his boyfriend until he could physically assure that Itachi was relaxing. Itachi finally did let his muscles loose, melting just a little into Kisame’s great big chest.

The toaster oven dinged.

“What’s that?”

“Lunch is ready.”

“Lunch?”

“Yeah. I was making some for myself when you showed up, but there’s plenty enough for two.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that—”

“Sit at the damn table, Itachi.”

Itachi crossed his arms. “You keep interrupting me.”

“You keep saying dumb shit.”

Itachi glared.

Kisame finally did coax him into a kitchen table chair. Itachi looked terribly uncomfortable as Kisame placed a bowl of soup and a slice of garlic bread in front of him; Kisame guessed it was because he was a waiter; he probably wasn’t waited on very often himself. All the more reason to spoil him.

“Thank you,” Itachi murmured as he sniffed the garlic bread. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“ _All this_? The soup is from a box, babe. I didn’t do much of anything.”

Itachi smiled a little, looking up under his lashes. “You know what I mean.”

The kettle screamed, and Kisame got up to save it from the hot stove. “You want tea? Hot chocolate?”

Itachi twisted around in the chair. “What type of tea do you have?”

“Chamomile? And uh…some passionfruit thing.”

“I’ll take the chamomile.” He started to get up from the seat, saying, “I can make it myself, though.”

“You’re right!” Kisame exclaimed sarcastically. “I’ll surely break my wrist tearing the wrapping off the tea bag.”

Itachi deadpanned.

Kisame chuckled, using the string to bob the bag in the hot water as he made his way back over to the kitchen table. “You prep enough food at your work. Let me do it, yeah?”

Itachi sighed, stirring his soup with the metal spoon. “Thank you for being so considerate.”

Kisame grinned. “Considerate is my middle name, didn’t you know?”

Itachi ate his soup as he waited for his tea to cool down a little. Kisame made small talk, about work and how hard it was raining—random things, seemingly unimportant things, but Itachi liked the thrum of his voice, liked the laid back way Kisame formed his sentences. The food was warm in his stomach, savory on his tongue, and by the time the two of them finished eating, he was feeling very snuggly.

“Come here,” he murmured, picking up his mug of tea and holding his other hand out for Kisame.

The two of them made their way into the living room, where Itachi sat on the couch, legs folded. Kisame settled in next to him, pulling Itachi’s back against his chest so he could kiss his hair. Itachi held the warm mug in his hands and listened to the rain on the roof and against the windows.

Warm tea, the music of rain, and hair kisses.

Itachi’s heart was thrumming.

“I don’t think it’s going to stop storming any time soon,” he murmured.

“Yeah?” Kisame asked into his hair, wrapping his arms tightly around Itachi’s chest. “I guess you’re stuck with me.”

Itachi hummed. “That sounds lovely and all, but I do have to get to work this evening.”

“Stay here until then.”

“My groceries….”

“I can drop them off at your house.”

Itachi rolled his eyes. “You aren’t doing that.”

“Why not? I don’t care.”

Itachi rolled his head back onto Kisame’s shoulder behind him so he could look him in the eye. “Shush.”

Kisame kissed his forehead. “Or you can leave the groceries here, and then come back to get them later….”

Itachi laughed a little. “Clever.”

Kisame gave him a squeeze. “If you would come over more often I wouldn’t have to hold your tomatoes and blueberry bagels hostage.”

Itachi hummed, pressing his face against Kisame’s neck. “I’ll stay until I have to go to work; then I’m calling an Uber or something.”

“It’s fine, I’ll drive you to work.”

Itachi sighed. “You don’t have to do that, Kisame.”

“We’re going in a circle, Itachi.”

He pursed his lips. “Are you _sure?_ ”

“One hundred percent. Now—enough. Let’s talk about something else.”

Itachi looked over across the room, at the long table against the wall. It was mounted with picture frames of all different shapes, sizes, and colors. He got up from the couch, setting his mug of tea on top of a coaster on the table next to the couch, and walked over to it. There was a large, dark wooden frame in the middle; the photo was filled with people, the grinning faces of children at the bottom and some elderly people on the sides.

“My family,” Kisame clarified from the couch.

Itachi raised his eyebrows.  “There’s a lot.”

Kisame chuckled. “Yeah. Some of them aren’t even blood relatives or marriage relatives, I don’t think, but they’re family all the same.”

Itachi smiled. “It must take forever to get through all of them when you call home for Christmas,” he joked.

There was a picture of Kisame and his parents in the forefront, both of them beautiful. He could tell that Kisame got his grin from his mother. Itachi’s heart ached a little, so he set the frame down.

There were a couple of small photos of Kisame and his cousins. They really didn’t look anything related side by side. There were some underwater photos—of sharks, or coral, or those majestic underwater canyons Kisame praised so highly. There was an accompanying picture of Kisame decked out in scuba gear, and another of him driving a giant boat. Sadly, there were no pictures of baby Kisame. That would have been cute.

Itachi ran his finger over a golden picture frame off to the side. It showcased Kisame, though he looked to be younger, with a tall, freckled girl who had tan skin and dark blonde hair. He had an arm around her waist, and both of them held surfboards.

“Who’s this?” Itachi asked, looking over his shoulder.

Kisame came up behind him, sneaking a hand onto Itachi’s hip. “Who?” A pause. “Oh, that’s Sandy.”

“You look close here,” Itachi noted.

Kisame chuckled. “Yeah? We should. I thought I was gonna marry her.”

Itachi’s eyebrows shot up.

Kisame shrugged nonchalantly, sliding his hand up to Itachi’s waist. “It didn’t work out, clearly.”

“I’m sorry,” Itachi murmured, “that must have been hard.”

“Nah. I ended it.”

“How come?”

Kisame was thoughtful for a moment. “Ya know, for a long time I didn’t really know why. We’re kinda perfect for each other. My mom used to say that we were each other’s counterparts.” He smiled a little. “It was mostly just a gut feeling. Dating her was so…comfortable? That’s not the right word. Habitual, maybe. We just kind of developed a pattern. She never pushed me as a person, never made me grow or act more open minded. I think that…it would have been one of those relationships where we stopped _truly_ loving each other, but it would be too safe and easy and we would stay together out of convenience. I don’t want someone like that. I want someone who keeps me on my toes, who surprises me.”

Itachi looked at the picture for a few more seconds. “Do you keep in contact with her?”

“No. She was…pretty upset when I ended things. Everyone thought we were gonna marry. Her parents, my whole family— _us_. She didn’t understand when I broke it off, she ended up taking things really hard. Did some things I hope she’s not proud of.”

Itachi smiled a bit. “Why do you keep this here, then?”

“First loves have a way of affecting you long after you’ve grown apart, don’t they? I still care for her. I think of her kind of like a sister, now; I don’t regret any of the time we spent together.”

“But she does,” Itachi inferred, setting the frame back down.

Kisame hummed. “I’m hoping not. It’d be cool to be friends again someday, after she forgives me.” He loosened his hold so that Itachi could turn around in his arms. “What about you?”

“What about me.”

“Well, surely I’m not your _first_ boyfriend.”

Itachi pressed his lips together. “There was one guy. I broke up with him two years ago, so it’s been a while. I loved him while we dated, but it would have never worked out. I didn’t by any means want to marry him, and I certainly don’t want to be friends someday.”

Kisame laughed. “Bad breakup?”

Bad everything. “I’m just very over him.”

“Fair enough,” Kisame conceded. He leaned down, kissing Itachi like he’d been dying to do ever since Itachi showed up on his porch. “Your tea must be getting cold.”

“You’re right,” Itachi hummed, slipping out of Kisame’s grasp to return to the couch, settling down with one leg tucked under him.

“I like your hair like that,” Kisame grunted, sitting down closely next to him.

“Yeah?” Itachi asked, running his hand down the braid. It was practically dry by now. “Look at this.” He pulled the band off the end and began unraveling the plaits. Kisame looked disappointed at first, but his eyes lit up as he saw what Itachi was getting at. Itachi bent his head over, shaking his hair out, and then ran his hand through the now curly locks a couple of times.

“That’s…fucking cute as hell, Itachi.”

Itachi rolled his eyes with a little smirk. “Thought you might like it.”

Kisame pushed his hands into his hair, fingers massaging at his scalp.

“Oh,” Itachi murmured, fingers tightening around his mug of tea. “That feels good. Keep doing that.”

Kisame grinned, pressing his thumbs behind Itachi’s ears. They sat like that for a few minutes, listening to the pattering of the rain and the sipping of Itachi’s tea.

“Can I ask you something?”

Itachi nodded, tilting his head.

“The other day, when we were on the phone…you mentioned a couple of things.”

Itachi snorted delicately. “I did, didn’t I?” He sighed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for that conversation to be so…inelegant.”

“You don’t need to apologize for anything. Just.” His fingers paused. “There’s a couple of things that have been buggin’ me.”

“Yeah?” He leaned back, letting Kisame’s hands regretfully leave his hair.

“Yeah.”

Itachi raised an eyebrow. “And those would be…?”

Kisame didn’t say anything for a moment. “A prostitute?”

Itachi looked away. “Ah. That.”

“That.” Kisame shifted. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, I just—”

Itachi waved his hand. “It’s okay, I brought it up. What do you want to know?”

Kisame furrowed his brow. “I guess, just… _why?”_

Itachi sighed. “Sasuke and I were going to get evicted. I was desperate. I knew a guy was did some shady dealings. He told me that if I gave him part of his profit he could get me as many clients as I needed.”

“But you didn’t go through with it,” Kisame said, recalling Itachi’s words from their phone call.

Itachi shook his head. “I backed out last minute.”

“What stopped you?”

Itachi bit his lip. “I’d never felt so incredibly awful. I was in my room, getting ready, and in that moment all I could think was I would have honestly rather had all of my fingernails pulled off one by one than go to that man’s house. I threw up for like…twenty minutes.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t go through with it. Probably for the better; Sasuke would have never forgiven me.”

“Why not?”

Itachi looked at him for a moment. “He wouldn’t want me to do that. He would know how it would mess me up. Especially after—” He snapped his mouth shut.

Kisame looked concerned. “After…?”

“Nothing,” he corrected. “I just—I’m touchy about sex. You can tell, I’m sure.”

Kisame let it drop, thankfully.

“Besides, if I had gotten an STD or something, then it would all have been pointless; I can’t take care of Sasuke if I’m dead, or dying.”

“Does Sasuke know how bad it got now? Have you told him?”

“No. There’s no way I could explain it to him without letting him know what my plans were. He would probably ignore me for weeks to punish me.”

“Even though you didn’t actually do it?” Kisame sounded confused.

“Sasuke doesn’t…approve of me shouldering all the finances. I didn’t let him take any loans out in his name for college, and I won’t let him get a job….” He trailed off, looking at nothing in particular. “He doesn’t seem to think that I take very good care of myself.”

Kisame’s eyes were calculating. “Is there a reason you’re waiting tables? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but—you could get at least a teaching job or _something_ , right? You’re, like, a genius.”

“Not even close,” Itachi brushed off the compliment. “And no, I can barely get the in-home tutors I have now. I never went to college, so I don’t have a degree in anything. I’m lucky for the jobs I have landed.”

“Hm.” Kisame leaned back into the couch cushions.

Itachi tilted his head, tracing his finger across the swell of a vein on Kisame’s forearm. “Something wrong?”

Kisame shook his head, frowning, stretching his palm open so Itachi could touch as he pleased. “Just curious why you never went to college, I guess.” He shifted. “I mean, it couldn’t have been too hard for you.”

Itachi looked him very calmly in the eye. “Sasuke and I cannot afford two college loans, Kisame. I chose not to go so that Sasuke could have the chance.”

“Oh.” Kisame blinked. “That’s…a really big sacrifice, Itachi.”

He shrugged. “It was the obvious choice.”

Kisame was silent for a moment. “Can I ask you another question?”

“You’re full of them today,” he teased, but his smile was soft. “Go ahead.”

Kisame said, gruffly, “how often do you skip meals?”

Itachi groaned, letting himself flop back against the couch armrest. “I don’t starve myself.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“You’re turning into my brother,” Itachi grumbled. “I usually skip breakfast—don’t give me that look, eating that early makes me sick, anyway, so I usually wait till lunch. _Sometimes_ I don’t eat lunch if I don’t have time. I almost always eat dinner with Sasuke.”

“Hm.”

Itachi rolled his eyes. “I’m perfectly fine. Do I look starving to you?”

“No,” Kisame conceded, grabbing Itachi’s hands to pull him back up into a sitting position. “But I don’t like the thought of you not taking care of yourself.”

Itachi raised an eyebrow. “Keep this up and I’ll start accidentally calling you Sasuke.”

“Yeah? I can fix that.” He reached out, cupping Itachi’s face with both hands. “Come here; Sasuke doesn’t do this, huh?” He pulled Itachi’s face against his, sliding their lips together, softly at first. Itachi closed his eyes, pressing himself closer just slightly, and let his hand cup Kisame’s infuriatingly attractive jawline. Kisame had one hand in his hair, the other on his waist, and began to move his lips more roughly.

Kisame just barely had his tongue past Itachi’s lips when Itachi’s phone rang.

Kisame sighed, leaning back. “I’m never gonna get to just make out with you, am I….”

Itachi gave him a smile and rolled his eyes, answering his cell. “Sasuke.” He paused. “No, the bus had to take a detour and I ended up stopping by Kisame’s house. He said he’ll take me to work.” Another pause. “Thanks for offering, but I think he’s pretty insistent about it.” Itachi pushed some wavy hair behind his ear. “What am I doing now? Well, right before you called Kisame was trying to get his tongue on the roof of my mouth. Why do you ask?” He laughed. “His hands are very appropriately on his lap. Do you want to talk to him?” Kisame could just barely hear the buzzing from the speaker. “I’ll tell him. Work hard, I’ll be home for dinner.”

“He said that if you put your hands anywhere but my shoulders he’ll cut them off,” Itachi announced pleasantly, ending the call and turning to face Kisame again.

“Oh, yeah?” Kisame muttered, immediately sliding his hands down Itachi’s waist and to his hips. Itachi almost giggled. “C’mere, let me kiss you.”

“And let you face my brother’s wrath?” Itachi teased, scooting closer. “I’m protecting you, really.”

“Can you make out with me for, like, ten minutes?” Kisame demanded, almost pouting.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Itachi drawled, rolling his eyes. But, he did relent, mercifully for Kisame’s sake. It was much passed ten minutes by the time Kisame did get his tongue to the roof of Itachi’s mouth—if only just to prove that he could do it. Itachi bit down on Kisame’s lower lip, and Kisame pulled him into his lap, gripping his hips firmly.

“If I bruise,” Itachi mumbled against Kisame’s lips, letting his tongue roll over them, “no matter the reason, Sasuke _will_ kill you.”

“How is Sasuke gonna know if you have bruises on your hips, huh?” Kisame asked around kisses.

“He just _knows_.”

Kisame pressed his thumb to Itachi’s jaw, coaxing his mouth open to he could slide his tongue inside and against Itachi’s. Itachi made a little sound in the back of his throat, both hands gripping onto Kisame’s face. Kisame ran his hands down his back, across to his hips, and then back up to his shoulders. Itachi tentatively let the tip of his tongue brush against the top of Kisame’s, and he groaned in encouragement.

Itachi broke apart to breathe, his lips glistening, and Kisame pressed kisses up and down his neck, rough hands squeezing him along his ribcage.

“Maybe we should stop,” Itachi breathed.

“Why would we do that?” Kisame murmured, tilting Itachi’s chin up so he had access to that perfect jawline.

Itachi shifted a little uncomfortably. “Because I want to.”

Kisame chuckled, giving Itachi one last kiss before he pulled away. “Yeah, okay.” He licked his lips. “You good?” he asked, tracing a finger around the curve of Itachi’s cheekbone.

“Yes,” Itachi murmured, catching his breath. “I just—I should be upfront with you,” he said around a clear of his throat.

“’Bout what?” Kisame grunted, putting one arm behind him on the back rest of the couch.

“If you are anticipating sex, or—”

“Didn’t we already clarify that—”

“Just _listen to me_ ,” Itachi persisted, covering Kisame’s mouth with his hand. “I trust that you aren’t trying to take advantage of me, but I’m just saying…if you’re looking forward to sex, or whatever, just…don’t count on it.”

Kisame raised an eyebrow, gesturing pointedly to the hand over his face. “Is that all?” He asked when Itachi removed it.

Itachi glared. “I’m trying to be serious. Could you at least pretend to care about what I’m saying?”

“Who says I don’t care?” Kisame defended. “I’m just not sure why you keep bringing this up.”

“Keep bringing this up? Isn’t it important to talk about this? I don’t want you entering into a relationship expecting sex when you aren’t going to get any.”

Kisame clicked his tongue. “You know, Itachi, if I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re trying to break up right now.”

Itachi recoiled. “No, that’s not—”

“I said if I didn’t know any better.” He hummed. “You just push people away as a reflex instead of accepting them, I understand that. I mean, I don’t get it myself, but that’s how you are.”

Itachi let his eyes close as Kisame’s thumb rubbed against his temple. “I just don’t want to lead you on. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Kisame smiled just a little. “Thank you. But I can take care of myself.” He winked. “In multiple ways.”

There was silence for a moment.

“God dammit,” Itachi muttered, looking down.

“What’s wrong?”

“I always do this, I always pick fights. I don’t mean to.” His hair obscured part of his face.

Kisame laughed. “What are you talking about?” He pushed the hair behind Itachi’s ear. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m _glad_ that you want to talk things out.” He pulled Itachi forward.

Itachi let Kisame pull him in, nudging himself a little closer. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Mind what?”

Itachi shrugged a little lifelessly. “That I’m such a bad boyfriend.”

Kisame rolled his eyes. “You aren’t a bad boyfriend, geez. You can do whatever you want with your body, okay? Besides, you aren’t saying no sex _ever_. Just until you can trust me well enough. That’s completely reasonable.” He grinned, leaning in. “Besides, I’m very confident in my ability to win you over.”

Itachi stayed staring at his shoulder.

“That was a joke, you know.”

“I know.”

“Then could you smile?”

Itachi looked up. “I’d laugh at your jokes if they were actually funny.”

“Oh, so _that’s_ how it is, huh?”

Itachi’s lips twitched.

Kisame picked up both of his hands, holding them tightly between his. “I don’t want you to feel stressed out around me—wow, your hands are really fucking dry,” he commented, feeling how rough the skin was along the tops of his knuckles.

“It’s from the bleach,” Itachi answered quietly, pushing his fingers in between Kisame’s so he could hold his hand properly.

“Bleach?”

“From the restaurant. You have to rinse the dishes off in water, wash them with soap, bleach them, use soap again, rinse, and then dry.” He shrugged. “The waiters all are expected to wash dishes, and I usually get stuck back there the most.”

“There aren’t gloves?”

“There are,” Itachi replied, “but you know how it is.”

Kisame smiled a little, squeezing Itachi’s hands. “Use lotion.”

Itachi wrinkled his nose. “I can’t stand lotion. I’d rather have crackling hands.”

Kisame snorted. “You’re one of a kind, Itachi. C’mere,” he ordered gently, leaning back into the armrest of the couch. Itachi crawled over him, settling in between his legs and laying his head on Kisame’s chest. Kisame wrapped his arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly. “Feeling better?” he asked, watching the way Itachi’s hair bent from the crease of the braid as it cascaded around him.

“I feel fine.”

Kisame tsk’d. “You were upset.”

“That’s on me.  You don’t need to worry yourself about that.”

Kisame shook his head. He kissed the top of his head. “That’s not how relationships work, baby.”

Itachi pressed his lips together. “This is good,” he said quietly.

“Hm?”

“This makes me feel better. I like this.”

Kisame grinned. “Well, that makes my job easier, doesn’t it?” His hand rubbed soothing circles against Itachi’s back. “This isn’t too hard.”

Itachi smiled against his chest.                             

Kisame listened to Itachi breathe for a few minutes, a sound he was becoming attached to surprisingly quickly. The rain still beat away at his roof. He eventually stretched one arm back to dig into the drawer of the side table behind him, rummaging for the stereo remote.

Soft music floated from the speakers, and Itachi shifted in his arms. “Who is this?” he asked sleepily.

“Sade. Have you heard of her?”

Itachi shook his head, lifting up his head. He propped himself up by his forearms leaning on Kisame’s chest. It brought them nose to nose. “She has a nice voice,” he murmured. It was throaty. Sandy but smooth.

Kisame nodded. “I used to listen to this as I went to bed.”

“You’re trying to get me to fall asleep?” Itachi accused.

Kisame chuckled out a throaty sound, the noise coming from deep in his chest. He leaned forward, letting his nose press against Itachi’s wavy hair. “Mm. I like that.”

“Like what?”

“You used my soap. And now you smell like me.”               

Itachi snorted. “You’re weird.”

The two of them stayed like that for a while longer, talking and joking—and kissing a little, of course, although those kisses weren’t like the teasing, wet kisses from before. They were softer, and sweeter and Kisame held Itachi’s face the whole time.

Eventually the time for Itachi to head to work swung around. Kisame moaned and groaned about it, trapping Itachi against his chest and embracing him tightly, kissing his hair and his face and the back of his neck.

Itachi wiggled in his arms, unsure how to deal with the affections, but enjoying them nonetheless.

“Kisame,” he laughed as his boyfriend pressed rough lips to his eyelids, “I can’t be late! We have to go; _you’re_ the one that insisted on driving me there in the first place.”

Kisame let out a big sigh. “ _Fine_. I’ll get the car keys.” He kissed Itachi one more time, got up from the couch, and made his way back into the kitchen, stretching his arms behind his head.

Itachi stayed sitting on the couch, smiling after him, until he realized what he was doing and brought a hand up to cover his face. He quickly went upstairs and took his borrowed clothes off, fetching his own from off the top of the shower and redressing. They were still damp, but the ride was short, and Itachi had a spare set of work clothes in his work locker. Before he left Kisame’s bedroom, he darted to the closet, pawing through his clothes until he reached his sweatshirts. Biting his smiling lower lip between his teeth, he slipped a dark blue one off of the hanger, wadding it up in his arms.

“What’s that?” Kisame asked with a raised eyebrow as Itachi stepped off the staircase.

Itachi gave him a cheeky smile and brushed passed him.

“…so fucking cute, too fucking _cute_ ….” Itachi heard him mutter as Kisame opened the garage door.

Kisame had never been to the restaurant before, but Itachi was aware enough of his surroundings to give him adequate directions.

“I’ll give you your other sweatshirt next time I see you,” Itachi said, unbuckling his belt as Kisame pulled into a parking space.

“And that will be….?”

Itachi sighed, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. “As soon as possible,” he promised, opening the car door.

“What—that’s it? Just a kiss on the _cheek_?” Kisame teased, grinning.

Itachi paused, snorted, and leaned back. Kisame held Itachi’s face in place, connecting their lips just long enough that Itachi’s stomach started to wiggle.

“Take care, beautiful,” Kisame murmured when he released him.

Itachi blinked. “Yeah, you too.” He hopped out of the truck, sending his boyfriend a quick wave as he made his way to the door.

He snagged his work clothes, exchanging them for the sweatshirt. He dressed quickly, happy to get the damp clothes off of him. He went to the kitchen to start on dishwashing, tying his long hair up into a bun, since there weren’t any new customers to seat.

A crusty layer at the bottom of a black pan was trying his patience when one of the cooks spoke up.

“You’re in a good mood,” Adam, the cook, commented.

Itachi looked up from his work, blowing a string of black hair off the side. “Pardon?”

Adam shrugged. “You seem like you’re in a much better mood than usual.”

Itachi tilted his head. “And why would you say that?” He wasn’t acting any different than how he usually was.

“I don’t know. It just seems that way. You must have had a good day, or something.”

Itachi looked back down into the water so he didn’t have to meet his eyes.

“Must have.”

\--

“Tadaima.”

Itachi blinked up from the desk chair he was fixing, pressing a thumb to his glasses so they wouldn’t slide off of his nose. “Hey, there you are. I was wondering when you’d be coming home.”

Sasuke tossed his school bag onto the couch, sitting next to Itachi on the floor. “I was out with friends. What are you doing?”

“The screw in my chair snapped. Or something. I guess.” Itachi shrugged. He tilted the seat of the chair up, trying to identify the problem. “So, I’m attempting to fix it.”

Sasuke watched him fiddle with the screw driver for a few seconds. “…you have no idea what you’re doing, do you.”

“Not a clue,” Itachi agreed, dropping his arm and leaning back against the couch.

“Have you tried looking up a YouTube video on it?” Sasuke asked with a chuckle, ducking his head to try to locate the issue.

“Yeah, but none of them helped. Maybe I’ll ask Kisame to fix it,” he said, wrinkling his nose. With a sighed, he tossed the screwdriver back into the case he got it from. “How was your day?”

Sasuke shrugged. “As usual.”

“Who were you hanging out with?”

“Suigetsu, Karin, this guy in my statistics class name Shino, Naruto—”

“Naruto?” Itachi asked. “So you two are on speaking terms, again?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.”

“Otouto,” Itachi whined. “You never tell me anything anymore.” He nudged Sasuke’s shoulder. “C’mon, talk to me.”

“There’s nothing really to tell.”

Itachi straightened his back, waiting patiently.

Sasuke sighed. “Geez, you’re nosy. Well, uh—we…decided to try.”

“Try what?”

Sasuke glared. “What do you think?”

Itachi smiled harmlessly. “So you’re dating now?”

Sasuke shrugged one shoulder. “I guess.”

“And is that what you want?”

“I don’t know, that’s why we’re just trying. We don’t know what’s gonna happen.” Sasuke crossed his arms. “Who knows what I’m expecting, Naruto’s such an idiot, anyway.”

Itachi leaned his head on Sasuke’s shoulder. “An idiot that makes your heart feel all warm inside.”

“Naruto does not give me heartburn.”

Itachi laughed a little.

Sasuke shifted. “Is that what Kisame does? Make you feel like that?”

Itachi stared at the ground. “Yeah. He does.”

“So you two…are doing well?”

Itachi lifted his head up to send Sasuke a playful glare. “Heaven’s sake, Sasuke, could you sound anymore awkward?”

Sasuke stiffened defensively, and Itachi could only imagine a cat’s hair spiking up. “I do not sound _awkward_. I just don’t know what to ask.”

“Because you want to make sure I’m still pure.” Itachi snickered. “You’ll be happy to know that our relationship is still very unconsummated.”

Sasuke glared at him, but his shoulders relaxed infinitesimally. “But he’s—you like him?”

Itachi nodded.

Sasuke pursed his lips. “And he hasn’t, like, shown any red flags?”

Itachi shook his head. “Nope. And I’ve been looking. I told him, too, about my hesitations when it comes to sex, and he was nothing but understanding.”

“They all _say_ that,” he muttered.

“Sasuke,” Itachi murmured, a gentle reprimand.

“I just mean—yeah, okay, sorry. I’m supposed to be less cynical. I’m supposed to be supportive.”

“I appreciate the effort,” Itachi said dryly, but he leaned forward to kiss Sasuke’s forehead before getting up off the floor and heading into the kitchen. “You already eat?”

“Yeah,” Sasuke replied. “Are you going over to his place again soon?”

Itachi took out a container of strawberry yogurt from the fridge. “I don’t know,” he replied, peeling off the foil cover. It had been over a week since they had last met in person. “Hopefully soon.”

“You are eating more than just a small thing of yogurt, Itachi,” Sasuke scolded.

Itachi shrugged, spooning up a pink, jiggly glob. “I need to go shopping.” The people at the restaurant had been stingy with their tips, and there was another college loan payment due in a week.

Sasuke glared, getting up so he could rummage through the freezer. “Here,” he said, producing a pack of frozen chicken. “I’ll fry this up, get the breadcrumbs.”

Itachi hummed. “I’m fine, Sasuke, we can save that for later.”

Sasuke whirled around and pointed a very demanding finger in Itachi’s face. “You’re gonna get the damn breadcrumbs so I can make this for you, or I’m gonna shove it down your throat frozen.”

Itachi rolled his eyes, setting the yogurt down and moving to the pantry.

“Fucking child,” he heard Sasuke mutter from the stove.

“Language.”

\--

Itachi loaded his arms up with two large bowls and a few plates, empty and half empty cups stacked and tucked under his arm. He was rushing them to the kitchen when he heard the restaurant door open. “Welcome,” he called out, blowing a wayward clump of hair off of his face. He dumped the dishes into the sink and spun around, grabbing a menu and turning towards the door—

And there, in all of his grinning glory—

“Welcome to Oh Mai Pho!” Itachi didn’t even miss a beat. “Table for one?”

Kisame grinned. “Yeah; I was gonna go out to lunch with my super hot boyfriend, but I think he’s working right now.”

Itachi refrained from rolling his eyes. “Right this way, Sir,” he responded politely, leading Kisame to an empty two person table by the window.

“Sir?” Kisame chuckled from behind him. “Can’t say I mind that at all.”

Itachi slapped the menu down on the table. “I’ll be right back to get your drink order,” he said as politely as possible while still gritting the words out between his teeth.

After checking in with two of his tables and bringing an extra side of pho toppings for a woman, he returned to Kisame.

“You’re looking a little frazzled,” Kisame commented gruffly.

“We’re understaffed; someone who was supposed to have shift now called in sick,” Itachi sighed. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Water is fine,” Kisame replied, head resting on his folded hands, grinning.

Itachi raised an eyebrow. “Typically people look at the menu to decide what to order,”

Kisame grinned. “I’m looking at what I want to eat right now.”

Itachi rolled his eyes. “It’s lunch rush, so I can’t waste any time with you. I’ll be back in a few to take your order.”

A couple walked in and he quickly seated them at a table and took their drink order. He could _feel_ Kisame’s eyes on him as he moved about the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant.

When he returned to his boyfriend’s table with a glass of water, Kisame said, “You look good with your hair up in a bun.”

Itachi ignored him. “Have you decided what you want to order?”

“Surprise me.”

Itachi rolled his head back. “Kisame,” he groaned.

Kisame’s eyes roved up and down him. “Careful; that sends me a lot of implications.”

“Why are you even here?” Itachi asked, pushing wayward hair out of his face—his bun was falling apart, and all sorts of black strands were slipping out and around his head.

“Can’t I have lunch at the best Vietnamese place on the block?” He asked, trying to be innocent. “But, I mean, you might have something to do with it.”

“Hm, _might._ ”

Kisame smiled, folding his arms across his chest. “Is it a crime to see my boyfriend at work?”

Itachi sighed. “Let me take your order.”

“I told you, I want a surprise.”

“I can’t do that; it’s against restaurant policy.”

“Fine.” Kisame flicked through the menu. “Number…37.”

“Anything else you’d like?”

“You, naked, and in my bed?” Kisame suggested.

Itachi rolled his eyes and turned on his heel. He put Kisame’s order into the kitchen and returned to the tables to clear dishes and attend to customers. The kitchen was a bit bogged down, so it took longer than normal to get Kisame’s food prepared.

“Brisket and rare beef pho,” Itachi announced, carefully setting the steaming white bowl in front of Kisame. He placed the toppings next to it. “Anything else you need?”

Kisame shook his head.

Itachi paused before he left. “How did you even know I was working now? I’ve never told you that I double shift on Thursdays.”

Kisame grinned. “You know Rhea, my coworker with the cat? Turns out her boyfriend is one of the cooks that works the weekends!” He broke a pair of chopsticks apart. “I had dinner with them the other night to celebrate a finished blueprint the two of us collaborated on, and he was gracious enough to mention that you work the lunch shift on Thursdays.”

Itachi gave him a dead stare.

“I’m telling you, Itachi,” Kisame slurped up some noodles, “this world keeps getting smaller and smaller.”

“I’m gonna kill Adam,” Itachi muttered as he left to go clear a table. The party left a generous tip, which put a little bounce in his step and he moved about the room for the next few minutes.

A few minutes later, after returning a bill to a table, he made his rounds to all of his customers and checked back in on Kisame. “How is everything?”

“This may be the second most delicious thing in the room,” Kisame noted.

Itachi didn’t manage to stop the smile that twitched at the corners of his lips. “You’re annoying.”

“And yet you keep coming back for more,” Kisame said teasingly.

“Don’t push it.”

Kisame made a show of stuffing his mouth with noodles.

The lunch crowd began to dwindle, and both Itachi and the other waitress, a sweet, shy girl named Naomi, breathed a sigh of relief. They were resting their tired feet in the back room for a few minutes while they had the chance.

“Hey,” Naomi spoke up softly. The two talked often, as they had bonded over that hectic lunch shifts they shared. “You know that guy by the window you’re waiting on?”

Itachi put his hair tie in his mouth as he redid his bun. “Yeah, what about him?”

Naomi looked down, hands clenched on her apron. “Do—do you think it would be inappropriate to ask for his number? Since I’m on the clock?”

Itachi blinked, hair band snapping against his finger as it slipped. “Uh, well—”

“I usually don’t do that type of thing, especially not at work, but I was just thinking that _maybe_ ….” She bit her lip. “He’s just so attractive. I’m thinking I should be the one to initiate for once.”

Itachi cleared his throat. “Any other person and I would encourage you to go for it.”

“Why not him?” Naomi asked with a frown.

“He’s kinda—taken,” Itachi clarified, pushing his bangs back with a bobby pin.

“By whom?”

Itachi give a little smile. “Me?”

“Oh,” Naomi blinked, sitting back. “You’re gay.”

Itachi tilted his head.

“That would explain why you didn’t at all pick up that I was flirting with you the first couple weeks you took the Thursday shift,” she said with a deflated sigh.

Itachi laughed. “You were hitting on me back then?”

Her brow crumpled. “I’m not good at this type of thing!”

Itachi shook his head, smiling, and stood up from the bench. “Any other guy you see, I’ll help you out—deal?”

“Yeah,” Naomi sighed, offering Itachi a smile. “I guess I should have known you guys were dating, what with the way he looks at you.”

Itachi paused. “How does he look at me?”

Naomi shrugged simply. “Like you’re the sun.”

Itachi was stuck for a second, unmoving. He recovered almost unnoticeably and returned to waiting tables. He got the check for Kisame’s meal.

“You know,” he mentioned as he slid it in front of him, gathering the used dishes in his arms, “my coworker thinks you’re hot.”

Kisame looked around Itachi, spotting Naomi talking to an animated customer about boba choices. “She’s cute; not quite my type though.”

“What is your type?”

“You.” Kisame grinned. “Did you tell her I regularly stick my tongue in your mouth?”

“In fewer words,” Itachi answered vaguely. He drummed his fingers against his leg. “She—she said that you look at me…like I’m the sun.”

Kisame shrugged. “You are.” He pulled his wallet out and offered Itachi his credit card.

Itachi took it silently, producing the staff iPod from his apron and sliding the credit card into the adapter. He gave handed it over to Kisame to sign. Kisame took a ten dollar bill out of his wallet as he stood up.

“What is this?” Itachi asked as Kisame pressed it into his chest.

“It’s a tip.”

“That’s too much,” Itachi protested, trying to force it back.

“The food was marvelous, I was waited on perfectly,” he winked, “and the staff is beyond gorgeous.” Donning a more serious expression, he said, “I’m serious, babe, take it. You’ve been working your ass off; go treat yourself.”

Itachi fisted the bill in his hand, looking at the ground.

“You wouldn’t reject it from anyone else; just because I’m your boyfriend, I can’t be generous? Isn’t it usually the opposite?” Kisame leaned forward and gave him a peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you around.” As he turned to leave, Itachi grabbed his arm firmly and pulled him back around abruptly. He leaned up and—seeing that there were only a couple people in the restaurant now and none of them were looking towards the two—gave Kisame a real kiss, albeit a short one. Kisame immediately pushed his fingers into Itachi’s hair.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy,” he murmured, leaning forward into Kisame’s chest. “I know we don’t get to see each other all that often.”

“It’s alright, Itachi,” Kisame chuckled.

“I should still make time for you,” he muttered, pressing his face into Kisame’s neck for a moment. “I’ll call you tonight?” He looked up into Kisame’s eyes.

He wondered when he would get used to how damn _intense_ they were.

Kisame smiled and kissed his forehead. “Yeah, that sounds good. I look forward to it. Don’t overwork yourself,” he ordered as he departed.

Itachi watched him leave, wishing that he could follow him. He was starting to miss him more and more when they weren’t together.

“You have the same look,” Naomi said, appearing out of nowhere.

Itachi started a bit, head whipping around. “Pardon?”

“You look at him the same way,” she replied, a stack of plates at her hip. “You know, like he’s the sun.”

\----

 “I’m still mad at you for showing up at my work.” Itachi had his phone cradled between his head and his shoulder, stirring a pot of boiling spaghetti. He had gotten home just in time to prepare dinner for Sasuke and his friends, who were coming over in just a few minutes.

“Aw come one, how come?”

“You’re either going to make fun of me over it or make sex jokes over it for weeks to come.”

“What? Me? Itachi, what makes you think I would ever do something like that.”

Itachi laughed a little. “I wonder.” He used a pair of chopsticks to catch one of the strings of spaghetti, blowing the curling, translucent smoke away to cool it off.

“I promise I’ll be good.” Kisame didn’t sound the least bit sincere.

Itachi snorted. “Since when have you ever been good?”

Kisame chuckled. “Oh, Itachi, what a naïve thing to say. Do you know how I would be acting if I was being _bad_?”

“Enlighten me,” Itachi replied coyly.

“You sure you’re ready for that conversation?”

Itachi bit into the noodle, measuring the texture in his mouth. “See? You can’t even talk about these things rationally.”

Kisame laughed. “Fine, I’ll _prove_ it, if that’s what you need.”

Itachi hummed. He could hear Kisame sigh on the other end of the line.

“Damn, Itachi.”

“Hm?”

Kisame sighed. “I love talking to you.”

“I gathered that from how often you call me.”

“But it’s not enough.”

Itachi snorted. “No?”

“No. Because I want you _with_ me.”

Itachi smiled to himself as he felt his heart warm up. “Such a romantic, that’s what you are.”

“I’m serious. I wish you were here right now. I wish I could hold you and kiss you and run my hands through your hair.”

“I know. I’m sorry, ‘Same.” He picked up the pot of noodles and carefully drained it over the strainer. “Can you take lunch off tomorrow? We can meet somewhere. And I always have Saturday evenings free if you want to hang out.” He tossed the spilt pasta from the strainer back into the pot and moved to check on the sauce.

“Mm, I don’t think I can do tomorrow; this contracting deal just got real tight and we’ve been working our asses off to meet the demands. But Saturday is for sure.” He heard shuffling over the phone. “Come to my place?”

“Yeah,” Itachi agreed, adding more basil to the sauce. He heard more shuffling. “What are you doing?”

“Taking my clothes off,” Kisame replied.

Itachi snorted. “I thought you said you would be good?”

“I’m being plenty good,” Kisame protested. “Did you want me to sleep in my jeans?”

“It’s far too early to go to bed.” Itachi picked up the heavy pan and began to pour the thick red sauce over the noodles.

“I didn’t say I was going to sleep yet.”

“ _Be good_.”

“I was talking about television, but now I know where your mind is at. I won’t protest if you want to help me out. I can send you pictures.”

“You’re growing way too comfortable with the sex talk,” Itachi laughed, stirring the spaghetti with a wooden spoon to spread out the sauce.

“Am I? It’s all because of that damn bun, I bet.”

Itachi laughed a little. “Yeah? You like my hair that much?” Itachi squatted by a cabinet, looking for the large pasta bowl.

“Oh, Itachi. Do I _like_ your hair?”

Itachi snorted. “I don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?”

“Why you like my hair so much. It’s just hair. I don’t even take that good care of it.”

“Yeah? Well, why do you like my tattoos so much? It’s just ink.”

Itachi grinned. “Fine. You got me.”

There was a knock on the door, then, and Sasuke went bounding down the hall to answer it. Naruto burst inside happily, Karin hanging onto him. Juugo and Suigetstu followed.

“Onii-chan!” Naruto exclaimed, affectionately using the Japanese term he had adopted ever since he bullied Sasuke into teaching it to him.

“Be quiet,” Sasuke said in a sing song voice, “Nii-san is on the phone with his _boyfriend._ ”

Over Suigetsu’s laughter, Itachi said, “I should probably go now; Sasuke’s friends are here.”

“Damn,” Kisame said. “Text me before you go to bed.”

“I will,” Itachi promised, pouring the pasta into a large bowl and moving to set it on the table in the middle of the kitchen. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

“Bye, babe.”

The five of them all took their seats at the table—each chair mismatched as they had to gather them from random places in the apartment—as Itachi took the garlic bread out of the oven and placed it on a plate next to the pasta and salad.

“Nii-san always cooks pasta when you guys come over because he’s a shit cook and boiling water is pretty much the most he can manage,” Sasuke commented cheekily.

“I wouldn’t be so rude to the one who puts food on the table,” Itachi murmured playfully in response, taking a seat.

“I, for one, love spaghetti very much,” Karin announced, placing a heaping scoop onto her plate.

“Thank you, Karin,” Itachi replied sweetly, covering up Suigetsu’s comment of ‘don’t eat so much, you fat cow.’ Or something like that.

The five of them immediately devolved into joking and light banter, each of them taking turns between ribbing and defending Itachi.

Itachi’s eyes moved between all of them, a fond smile on his lips. It was a lovely little family Sasuke had made. He was glad that Sasuke found a family after being without one for so long.

As Itachi nudged the pasta around his plate, he couldn’t help but think that Kisame might just complete the picture sitting in the empty chair next to him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOO
> 
> Itachi's an insecure little fucker
> 
> ALSO WHOOPS LOOKS LIKE THEYRE FALLING FOR EACH OTHER! DID I DO THAT?
> 
> One of my friends always has these pointless, but really cute conversations with her boyfriend when they go to sleep. Which kind of inspired the first scene. Also Kisame really hates lying, so his response to the bus thing isn't really an overreaction, in my opinion. Just imagine someone doing the one thing you really can't stand. 
> 
> Also Soldier of Love by Sade 10/10
> 
> Disclamer: as hinted at in this chapter, these two are not going to be having sex. Ever. 
> 
> Lmao nah, yes they will, but not for a while. So if you're reading for smut, you're gonna have to slog through some development first ;) the dumbest thing is though--I've already WRITTEN that scene. Augh.
> 
> ALSO if you guys, like, have any input for what you want to see in this story...I'm all ears? I mean I've got this planned from start to finish, but like. Little scenes or something. The thing about this story is that...there's no real plot? I guess? I just get hits of inspiration for scenes, and then figure out how to stitch them against things I've already done. 
> 
> SO YEAH. Share with me your thoughts so that this won't run prematurely dry.
> 
> Jeez, my notes are so long. I just have a lot of thoughts about this to share! If you guys dgaf, let me know, I can stop writing them, haha. 
> 
> As always I love to hear what you have to think! (and comments just may push me to write faster~)
> 
> See you again soon!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -WHEEZES- 
> 
> I'm gonna blame this being late on the fact that every time I mean to write "Kisame's" my little fuck of a brain types "Kisam'es" and it i n f u r i a t e s me. 
> 
> In all truth, though, I fucked up my wrist and have had to limit how much I can write (a true tragedy for me). I mean, I've been writing a ton anyways, it just gets gummy once the pain sets in. I've also been waist deep in school work, so. Also I've gotten sick four (four!!!) times since I posted the last chapter. I don't ever get sick four times a /year/ so I've been frustrated and whiny.
> 
> (also fallout 4)
> 
> AnyWAYS.
> 
> Alsooo~ a lot of you left comments about what you wanted to see and I'm shitting you not everything you requested or suggested I already had planned one way or another. So I guess we're all on the same page. There's /one/ particularly important event which I'm playing around with. I already wrote it, but I could easily redo that part if I wanted to execute it a different way. 
> 
> Here's the next chapter! Lot's of romancy squishy feel goody stuff here. Hope that's not a problem lmao.
> 
> Enjoy, enjoy!

Soft smacking sounds floated up from Kisame’s living room couch Saturday evening. He had Itachi firmly under him, one hand molded to Itachi’s jaw line, the other tight on his waist. Itachi’s fingers were locked around Kisame’s neck as they kissed.

When Itachi arrived at Kisame’s house close to an hour before, Kisame was in a shit mood. He had worked almost two hours overtime on Friday and apparently made little progress on his current project, which caused him to be grumpy and seething when Itachi tried to talk to him. They got into an argument, Kisame was yelling and snappy, and then—all of the sudden Kisame just froze, and stared at Itachi. He grabbed him, buried is face into his hair, and held him so tightly Itachi could barely breathe. Itachi, in that moment, could feel the trembling anger soothe out of Kisame’s muscles as he tension dissipated. After he cooled down, Itachi led him to the couch and pulled Kisame on top of him.

They were still kissing.

Itachi had very much lost track of time (and he very much didn’t mind).

He made a noise in the back of his throat, sliding one hand down to press against the top of Kisame’s broad chest, gently pushing him back. Kisame let out a little groan of protest, bumping their noses together.

“Are you going to tell me what’s upset you?” Itachi asked breathily, licking his lips.

Kisame pushed their foreheads together. “There really isn’t much to say.” He tried to kiss him again.

Itachi hummed, letting his hands gently rub up and down Kisame’s arms. “Why don’t you tell me whatever there _is_ to say.”

Kisame sighed, sitting up. He dragged Itachi up with him, keeping one hand on him. “The current client we have is contracting a building for a restaurant over in Rivervalley. He is being…unforeseeably difficult about everything, changing things at the last minute.” He ran a hand over his forehead. “My team and I have put in so many hours and he shits on it.”

“That sounds frustrating,” Itachi sympathized in a quiet voice.

Kisame looked up at him. He lifted his hand to push dark hair out of Itachi’s face. “Yeah, but it isn’t an excuse to be short with you. I’m sorry.”

Itachi gave a lighthearted shrug, a small smile on his face. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not going to take anger I have for other people out on you,” Kisame insisted.

Unsurprisingly, Itachi ended up in Kisame’s lap with is boyfriends tongue in his mouth again. He was quite enjoying the way Kisame held his face, and the way his nipped at his lips every now and again. He unwillingly felt himself melt into pliable putty as Kisame kissed him.

His pleasure was interrupted by a cellphone buzzing in Kisame’s pants.

Kisame hummed, “Ignore it.”

But after two more missed calls, Itachi insisted that he answer it.

“It could be an emergency.”

Kisame didn’t look happy about it, but he let Itachi crawl back off his lap, removing his phone from his pocket and answering it with an angry grunt. Itachi carefully watched his facial expressions as whoever it was began to clamor on immediately, a near frantic hum from the speaker Itachi could only barely detect.

“Dammit, Ross, I’m off the clock!” Kisame snapped, running a hand through his dark hair. A pause. “ _Yes_ , what I’m doing right now is definitely more important!”

Itachi rolled his eyes.

“Why would she…? No! Don’t let her do that, she’ll fuck everything up. Dammit—dammit!” he got off the couch, walking into the hallway. “No, listen, just go into my blueprinting drawer and…”

Itachi folded his legs up onto the couch, stretching out his arms. He felt bad for Kisame, wished he could cheer him up somehow. The kissing seemed to work pretty well.

He idly wondered just how much he would make Kisame’s day if he took off all his clothes and let Kisame fuck him into the next Friday.

Probably most of it.

A growl from his stomach pushed him to hop off the couch and wander into Kisame’s kitchen. He poked through the cupboards and pantry, noting some random boxes and the giant case of protein powder. For the most part, though, the shelves were bare. He opened the fridge next. The crisper was stocked with lots of leafy greens and some peppers, and the bin below that was full of oranges. There was a tub of salsa, a crate of blueberries, a bottle of iced coffee—all in all, not very much. Before he managed to snoop through the freezer he heard Kisame chuckle from the counter.

“Looking for something in particular?” He asked. Itachi could feel the grin before he even turned around to see it. Kisame walked over to him, hands grasping Itachi’s face. He stared into Itachi’s eyes for a moment.

“You have very little food,” Itachi commented quietly.

“Yeah, I need to do a grocery run.” He leaned down, attaching his lips to Itachi’s neck.

Itachi sucked in an involuntary breath when Kisame pressed his teeth into his skin. “Ah—don’t leave any mark.”

“Why not?” Another suck at a slightly different spot, softer this time.

“I can’t have any of my students catch me with a hickey. I have a reputation to uphold.” A bite told Itachi exactly what Kisame thought of that. “It’s too hot yet to wear turtle necks and scarves.” He tried to keep his voice level, because it would be the end of him if Kisame found out how much he liked biting.

Kisame hoisted Itachi up and perched him on the counter so he could run his tongue over Itachi’s neck without having to bend down.

“Kisame….” Itachi’s voice was supposed to be scolding, Kisame knew, but it came out all wrong.

“You don’t want a hickey because of your students?” Kisame asked gruffly, gripping tighter onto Itachi’s waist.

“Yeah….” Itachi’s ankles had locked around Kisame’s legs without his permission, fingers curling around his arms.

Kisame let out a low chuckle and pulled the neckline of Itachi’s shirt down. He immediately sank his teeth into the skin about Itachi’s collar bone, letting his tongue smooth out any pain. Itachi stiffened in his arms, and Kisame heard him choke off a little noise in the back of his throat. He sucked on the spot for a moment, repositioning his teeth every now and then just to feel Itachi’s fingers flex on his arms.

He pulled away and licked the saliva off Itachi’s slowly reddening skin.

Itachi had a blush smeared across his cheeks and a glare brewing in his gaze.

Kisame grinned, readjusting Itachi’s shirt. “As long as you wear crewnecks for a few days, no one will even notice.”

Itachi let out a sigh, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. His fingers absently lifted to press against the blooming hickey. “Did you have to do that?”

Kisame gripped onto Itachi’s hips, pulling him to the edge of the counter to press their bodies together. “Maybe.” He let his tongue run across Itachi’s lips, coaxing Itachi to open his mouth. “Baby,” he murmured in between kisses, pulling at Itachi’s hair. “Have you ever had sex on a counter top before?”

Itachi laughed a little, pulling back to raise an eyebrow at his boyfriend. “No. Have you?”

Kisame leaned in for a rejected kiss. “If I say no will you let me keep kissing you?”

Itachi snorted and kissed Kisame on the nose. “I’m getting hungry,” he said, gently pushing Kisame back so he could hop off of the counter. “I think I’ll take off now.”

“No,” Kisame said immediately, arms circling Itachi’s waist. “No, no; stay.”

“I want to eat.”

“We can eat here.”

Itachi pushed his arms around Kisame’s neck, leaning back to look him in the eyes. “You don’t even have food.”

“I’ll order Chinese.”

Itachi kissed him again. “There’s no Chinese takeout place in this town.”

Kisame squeezed him tightly, finding it increasingly difficult to keep his lips off of Itachi’s. “Then I’ll go hunt the local fucking squirrel. Please just—don’t leave. Stay with me a while longer.”

Itachi hummed, leaning into Kisame’s chest. He felt Kisame’s large hand push into his hair. “Fine. You’ve convinced me. I’ll just starve.” Kisame tighten his grip.

Itachi _really_ liked being held like that.

“I have an idea,” Kisame said suddenly, rubbing his thumb into Itachi’s scalp. “We can go to the market for groceries and cook something together.”

Itachi raised his eyebrows, feeling a smile form on his lips. “Yeah?” He took a step back, separating their bodies (even though Kisame protested). He pulled his hairband out and used his fingers to recomb the freshly haphazard black strands into the usual ponytail. “You want to cook with me?”

“Why not? Couples do that for dates, right?”

Itachi laughed. “No clue.”

Kisame gave him a slightly goofy grin. “Let’s go?” he asked, reaching forward to grab Itachi’s hands.

“You keep touching me,” Itachi murmured, letting Kisame pull him in for yet _another_ kiss.

“I know.” Kisame wrapped his arms around Itachi, trapping his arms to his sides. “Look what you’re doing to me.”

Itachi smiled and gave him a kiss on the nose. “Motorcycle or car?”

“Motorcycle; the store isn’t even ten minutes away.”

Itachi walked back over to the faded blue couch, picking his phone and keys up and putting them in his back pocket. He heard the jingle of Kisame’s keys in the hallway and followed the noise out the front door. Kisame offered him a helmet and hopped on the bike, steadying it while Itachi climbed on the back and pushed his long hair up inside the helmet. He wrapped his arms around Kisame’s chest, kissing his neck as Kisame kicked the bike to life.

The ride was short, partly because the store was so close, partly because Kisame was breaking the speed limit, and partly because Itachi had no trouble melting into Kisame’s back.

Kisame pulled into an empty parking space with fanfare; Itachi playfully slapped his arm for trying to show off.

“You aren’t earning any points with me by trying to act cool. You look like an idiot.”

Kisame grinned, removing the helmet and shaking his hair out. Itachi redid his ponytail again as he walked through the parking lot, passing a grocer pushing a huge line of red shopping carts along the way.

Kisame threw a causal arm around Itachi as they walked into the grocery store. "So, what do you want to cook together, babe?" He picked up a basket, walking through the automatic sliding doors. Itachi’s hair was ruffled by the blast of the air conditioner.

Itachi hummed, reaching up for Kisame's hand. "Let's make...pizzas."

"Plural?" Kisame’s flip flops smacked against the dingy white paneled floor.

"Yeah. Personalized little pizzas."

Kisame chuckled, squeezing his boyfriend fingers tightly between his. "There’s pizza templates in the frozen section, I think."

Itachi shook his head, eyes rolling over the rack of potato chips they passed. "No, let's make the dough ourselves."

Kisame laughed, looking down at him with a surprised expression. "Really? You wanna?"

"We can flip it up in the air and everything."

Kisame snorted. "You’re lucky I've been cooking for myself for years; from what Sasuke has said you aren't the most prolific person in the kitchen."

Itachi frowned, digging his thumbnail into Kisame’s skin. "Don't trash talk me with my brother."

"Never."

They found the dough, the kind that comes prepackaged but required kneading and shaping anyways. Itachi picked up a can of pineapples—to which Kisame nearly broke up him with him for—and Kisame picked up sausage and bacon, along with rich red sauce and some expensive shredded cheese.

"I can't believe that you eat fruit on your pizza," Kisame said, mock disappointment coloring his voice, tossing the ingredients into the basket.

Itachi sniffed. "You’ll be grateful I ate pineapple later tonight."

"Don't tease me."

“Never.”

"I'm going to go pick up some beer, anything you want?"

Itachi shrugged. "I'll probably just drink water," he answered honestly.

Kisame grunted. "Ice cream?"

Itachi hummed, pleased.

"What flavor?" Kisame asked with a chuckle.

"I don't care."

"I'll go grab a six pack, you get some ice cream."

On the way back from the freezer, two cartons of strawberries and cream and butter pecan under his arm, Itachi passed by the desert tables on the bread section. Strudels, scones, bear claws, cookies, cupcakes....

"Which one do you want?" An unexpected voice muttered into his hair.

"Oh, nothing." Itachi shook his head, backing up into a hard body. "I was just looking."

"Pick one out."

"I don’t need anything."

"I'm getting you something. So choose." Lips pressed into Itachi’s hair.

Itachi pursed his lips defiantly.

"If you don't choose something, I'll buy all of it." The threatening murmur was accompanied by a kiss to the temple.

"No, you won't," Itachi huffed with a roll of his eyes.

Kisame slid his hands down Itachi’s arms, grasping onto his forearms and holding him in place. "One...two...three...."

"I don't want you wasting money on me."

"If I'm spending it on you, it's not a waste."

Itachi sighed, and after a short pause (and a prompting 'four' from Kisame) he snagged a clear plastic cartridge of inside out carrot cakes.

As they made their way to the checkout, Itachi took a crumpled wad of bills out of his pocket, which Kisame promptly snatched up. Itachi frowned up at him as they began to unload the basket on to the black conveyer belt, Kisame tossing a pack of gum in with the rest of their things.  When Kisame fished his wallet out of his back pocket and produced a shiny credit card, Itachi began to protest.

“Kisame—”

“What?” He handed it over to the cashier. “You’re going to get mad at me for paying for my groceries with my own money?”

Itachi rolled his eyes. “You know that’s not a fair statement. I’m sharing them with you so I should share the cost.”

“I’m not going to let you pay for things you won’t even eat.”

“ _Kisame,_ you know how I feel about this.”

“Yep,” Kisame gave the girl at the register a cheery look, seeing as she looked at a loss for what she should do. He stuffed the money back into Itachi’s jeans, who snapped his head around with a glare.

Itachi crossed his arms and huffed.

Kisame had both plastic bags in one hand as they exited through the sliding doors. He reached out to grab onto to Itachi, but his boyfriend withheld his hand with a glare.

“Babe,” Kisame whined, reaching out for his hand again.

Itachi pointedly ignored him.

Kisame popped the case at the back of the bike open when they reached the motorcycle, removing the helmets and replacing them with the grocery bag. He frowned at Itachi’s expression when he offered him the helmet.

“Are you seriously mad at me?”

Itachi stared at the ground, arms still crossed. “You don’t need to treat me any differently just because I’m poor.”

Kisame raised his eyebrows. “You think I’m treating you badly?”

“Not badly just—!” Itachi ran a hand over his head. “You’re always trying to pay for the whole bill, or buy me things I don’t need just because I _looked_ at them. You drive me wherever I want and—” He bit his lips, still avoiding eye contact. “It sounds like I’m trying to pick a fight because none of those things are inherently bad, it’s just…I don’t want it to matter that I’m poor. You don’t need to treat me like I have no independence just because I don’t have money.”

Kisame’s brow furrowed, tilting his head as he reached forward towards his boyfriend. “Itachi, I don’t do any of that because I think _less_ of you.” He waited until Itachi looked up to meet his gaze before he gripped onto his arms. “You mean… _a lot_ to me. If what I do makes you uncomfortable, I’ll stop—but I only do those things because I…like taking care of you.”

Itachi looked away again, but Kisame put his fingers around Itachi’s chin and turned his head back. “Babe?”

From the look in Itachi’s eyes Kisame could tell he was starting to feel like shit.

“Do you want me to stop? I won’t buy you anything more, you can pay for half the groceries if you want, I don’t care.”

Itachi looked up through his eyelashes. “I don’t want it to ever seem like I take advantage of your money.”

“It’s never seemed that way for a second.”

Itachi pressed his lips together.

“Itachi...” Kisame started, letting his hands slip down to Itachi’s hands. “Of course—of course I’m not going to expect you to spend money you worked your ass off for all day that equivocates what I make in an hour.” He watched to make sure Itachi wasn’t off put by what he was saying. “I don’t mean to put you down, I just want to be considerate. And I don’t want money to play any factor in what I do with you.” He rubbed his thumb across the back of Itachi’s hand and felt his thin fingers tighten. “Besides, I like spending money on people who are important to me.”

Itachi moved his hand within Kisame’s grip to twine their fingers together. “’Kay,” he said softly.

Kisame nudged him. “You good?”

Itachi nodded. “Yeah. Sometimes it just feels guilty, when you give me so many things and I have nothing to offer you.”

Kisame cracked a half smile. “Do you not understand how much you give me?”

Itachi snapped his head up, a half confused, half subtly overwhelmed look in his eyes. And then his lips were on Kisame’s, the tips of his fingers peeking out between Kisame’s to brush Kisame’s cheek. After a solid thirty seconds of kissing Itachi remembered that they were in a public parking lot.

He pulled away and licked his lips quickly, glancing at a car that seemed to slow down as it passed. “Let’s head back to your place?”

Kisame nodded. “You sure you’re good?”

“Yeah,” Itachi murmured with a nod, picking the helmet up off of the seat and fastening it around his head. “I’m sorry for picking a fight. I didn’t mean to.” He reached up to place Kisame’s helmet on his head.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

Kisame drove slower on the way home, a different mood lingering between then as Itachi hugged Kisame’s back. It wasn’t a bad one—just a little more mellow, a little more serious. Kisame’s endless grin and easy going, often playful nature often covered up how damn _serious_ he was about Itachi. It wasn’t frightening to Itachi, nothing of that nature, but sometimes the reminder of just how loyal and devoted Kisame could be was…a lot. There was no other way to describe it, it was just _a lot_. More than anything, Itachi just didn’t know what to _do_ with it, or where the line was between accepting it and taking advantage of Kisame.

They were quiet as they dismounted Kisame’s bike upon arrival to his house. Itachi felt bad, because he knew the atmosphere was awkward because of him. So, the moment he stepped foot back into Kisame’s house, he acted like the whole thing had never happened. Kisame seemed surprised as Itachi took the bags from his hands, moving quickly into the kitchen. He pulled all the ingredients out, laying them all out in a line even when Kisame asked why he was doing it.

“Just so we can see it all, you know. It will help with the creative process.”

“Creative process? We’re making pizza.”

“Cooking,” Itachi said pointedly, holding up a can of sauce, “is an art.”

Kisame chuckled lowly. “Is that so? Then why are you so bad at it?” He picked up the dough off of the counter, flipping it a few times in his hands.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m implying that you’re a work of art.”

Itachi snorted. “Ridiculous.” He frowned, watching as Kisame started to tear off the thin plastic lining of the dough. “Hey,” he scolded, flicking the back of Kisame’s hand.

“What was that for?”

“Wash your hands before even touching the ingredients. Do you know how dirty supermarkets are? Fifty percent of shopping carts are found to have both human and animal fecal matter on them.”

Kisame’s expression slowly bent inwards as he turned the sink on. “Itachi, that much knowledge must surely be a burden.”

Itachi sniffed. “Says the one who got saved from eating poop. Now sing your ABC’s to time yourself.”

Kisame laughed, lathering up his hands.

When they were both thoroughly cleaned, Kisame’s first move was to crack open a beer.

“You sure you don’t want any?” Kisame asked, swallowing a cold swig.

“I’ve told you,” Itachi replied, taking the liberty to snoop through Kisame’s cupboards and cabinets for plates, “I don’t really care for beer.”

“That’s right.” Kisame pointed a finger at him, and after a moment of thinking, said, “You’re a wine guy.”

Itachi hummed, smirking a little over at him. “Good memory.”

“As luck would have it,” Kisame announced, setting the glass bottle down on the counter with a gentle tap. He disappeared into the walk in pantry, reemerging a second later with a dark red bottle between his fingers. “I’ve got wine.”

He presented the bottle to Itachi, grinning that winning grin. “Caymus, fortieth anniversary. Knocked this shit off the shelves when it was thirty bucks a pop, now you’ve got auctions for one hundred and fifty online, shit’s so good.”

Itachi raised an eyebrow. “Well, then, please, don’t have me drink it. I’m sure it will be lost on my unrefined pallet.”

“Nonsense. I want you to have some. We don’t drink cheap wine in this house, anyways. Not unless someone’s getting drunk.” Itachi received a wink at that. He moved to the other side of the kitchen, rummaging through a drawer. He pulled out a strange contraption that had a long needle at the end, which he poked into the cork of the wine bottle.

“What are you doing?” Itachi asked, using the can opener Kisame set out to peel the lid off the pizza sauce. He threw it away, careful not to nick his fingers on the sharp edges.

“Tapping the bottle. I assume you aren’t planning on drinking the whole thing?” He grinned devilishly at him. “Although I won’t stop you. I’m sure you would be a very fun drunk.”

Itachi rolled his eyes. He was opening a can of pineapples when he felt Kisame’s hard body press against his back. Kisame kissed his neck, one hand touching his thigh, the other hand placing a stemless glass of red wine to the counter. He pressed another kiss to his ear.

“Thank you,” Itachi murmured, leaning back into him.

“For the wine, or for the kisses?”

“It depends on which tastes better,” Itachi teased with knowing eyes.

It would take a lot less than that to convince Kisame that he should kiss him. He turned Itachi around, sliding his thick arms around his waist, and cornered him gently against the counter.

Itachi let his mouth open easily, eyes sliding shut instantly.

After a few moments, Kisame pulled back, pressing soft, slow kisses to Itachi’s face and hair. He held him like that, Itachi’s face pressed into his neck, just for the sake of holding him.

“Well, I suppose it would be hard to beat that,” Itachi joked quietly, letting his fingers trace the tattoos on Kisame’s bicep.

“I don’t know, it’s pretty hard to compete with that wine.”

Itachi snorted out a laugh, facing the counter again and finishing his task with the pineapples. He picked the delicate glass up absently, taking a sip as he tossed the lid in the garbage.

“Wow,” he said, pulling his head away to stare at the wine.

“Right?” Kisame agreed.

Itachi took another sip. “I’m definitely no connoisseur, but this is…exceptional.”

“Better than the kisses?”

Itachi pursed his lips. “It’s a draw.”

“What a compliment,” Kisame laughed. He grinned over at Itachi with happy eyes, opening the pizza dough for both of them. “Look at you, cooking and drinking wine. You’re already a house wife.”

Itachi laughed at that, surprisingly loudly. “Sasuke always tells me I would be the worst wife, since I’m so accident prone in the kitchen.”

“Well, I would assume it would be very hard for you to be a wife in general. Although, you would make a very pretty trophy husband, I’d say.”

“Ha, ha,” Itachi replied sarcastically. “Now quit dawdling and turn the oven on; I really am hungry.”

Thankfully for the both of them, preparing the pizza wasn’t too difficult, so there was essentially no way that Itachi could screw it up. Itachi had fun with the dough, spreading it out and kneading it with his—very clean, of course—knuckles and fingers. They bunched up the edges of the circle of dough to make the crust, pressing out the lumps.

“Do you want barbeque sauce mixed in with the red sauce?” Kisame asked, frowning at how lopsided Itachi’s pizza looked. “Itachi, what the hell are you making?”

Itachi wrinkled his nose. “Don’t insult my culinary masterpiece.” “

Kisame shook his head, chuckling. “Go get the barbeque sauce from the fridge and I’ll fix—this.”

“You’re such a bully,” Itachi said with a chuckle, making his way to the sleek stainless steel fridge. “It’s not my fault the pizza curls back in on itself.”

“Don’t blame the innocent pizza, Itachi, you monster. Get a bowl from that cupboard over there,” Kisame directed, shaping Itachi’s pizza the right way, “to mix the sauces.”

Itachi dumped the can of pizza sauce into the white bowl, adding a couple globs of thick barbeque sauce and mixing it in. They smeared it across the dough, Kisame spreading more where it thinned out. It took a little bullying, but Kisame did convince Itachi eventually to sprinkle some crumbled bacon amidst the tragedy that was pineapple.

“Only way to make it edible,” he muttered, putting on oven mitts and sliding the pizzas onto the rack.

Itachi merely drank his wine and rolled his eyes.

By the time they had finished cooking and putting away the ingredients, Itachi’s wine glass was empty, dark purple stain on the side and the bottom of the delicate glass. Kisame refilled it without him asking, because Kisame knew that Itachi _wouldn’t_ ask. He was quite sure that Itachi could be dying of thirst and still wouldn’t ask for a glass of water. And if you offered it to him, he would ask if you were sure at least three times before accepting it.

Fucker.

He tossed his beer bottle in the recycling, popping open another one. Itachi was leaning against the counter, wine glass pressed to his lips.

“You look fine as hell drinking wine,” Kisame commented, closing the pantry door behind him.

Itachi raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I mean it. Something about the dark contrast with your complexion.” He pressed one hand to the counter, gently pushing Itachi’s wine glass out of the way so he could kiss him. “You taste good with wine on your lips, too,” Kisame murmured, sliding a hand against Itachi’s cheek.

“And you taste like beer. Don’t kiss me,” he teased. “And when did you refill this?”

“I took the liberty to while you were wiping down the counter. I know you wanted more.”

Itachi couldn’t hold in his smile. “Well, thank you.”

“Of course.”

They bantered a little more until the oven dinged. Kisame carefully removed the pizzas and placed them on a cooling rack, digging scissors out of a drawer so he could cut them into slices.

The ended up settled on the couch, plates of hot pizza on their laps. They talked a lot, about the most random things. Kisame told him a lot about his coworkers; Itachi never seemed to run out of questions about the parties they held, or the projects they were working on. Kisame wasn’t used to talking so _much_ about himself, especially not the trivial things. He was good at filling a conversation, but Itachi’s incessant curiosity was new. He wasn’t going to complain, though; there was something wonderful about Itachi acting so interested in him.

Itachi especially loved hearing about his childhood. At one point in the night, it made Kisame a little sad. Itachi acted so enthralled, which was nice, but with all of Itachi’s reactions there was a predominant…surprise? That wasn’t the word. Kisame just felt that Itachi was hearing things for the first time. And that seemed strange to him. The more he thought about it, the more it made a little bit of sense.

Itachi asked the most obvious questions, too, about how his parents acted when he was a kid, or how certain things were. Like sixteenth birthday parties, or high school graduation ceremonies. He asked about having a locker at school—what? What kind of question was that? He wanted to know what Kisame ate for thanksgiving when he grew up. He even asked if it was true when people said they would eat until they couldn’t anymore.

That kind of… _worried_ Kisame, because—did Itachi not have food when he was a kid? He remembered that Itachi’s parents died when he was just barely a teenager, but _still_. There was just something off about it all, something he couldn’t put his finger on.

He supposed that Itachi would never ask such incriminating questions if not for the glass and a half of cabernet running through his system.

It was harder to get things out of Itachi, but he was expecting that. He was beginning to realize that Itachi didn’t always necessarily withhold information about himself out of pure privacy. No, more often than not Itachi’s secrecy felt like a cover up because there really wasn’t anything to say in the first place. Itachi’s life was simple; he got up, he worked, worked some more, went to a different job to work, worked, came home, probably worked more. He filled the cracks in his schedule tight with chores and whatever Sasuke needed.

He never spoke about spending time with friends. The only stories he had were with Sasuke’s little group, and even then, he spoke so…removed from the event. He wasn’t really _there_ , wasn’t really apart of them, he just hung around them when they ended up in the same place. There was a very parental undercurrent to his words; he was like a chaperone, a supervisor, not a friend. It seemed odd, because he was pretty sure Juugo was only a couple years younger than him.

Kisame really did want to ask about friends, or coworkers, or _anyone_. But Kisame had only wet his finger tips on the well that was Itachi’s loneliness; they were having a good time, and Itachi seemed happy so—he wasn’t going to go there now.

They finished their pizza—Itachi claimed he was full after two slices, but Kisame called bullshit and convinced him to eat the rest—and got up to clean of their dishes. Itachi started to wash the plates by hand before Kisame could stop him.

“I have a dishwasher, you know,” Kisame reminded, fetching him a towel to dry.

“I’m sure. But I’m used to doing it this way, it will take me no time at all.”

“Don’t have a dishwasher?”

“You’re looking at it,” Itachi joked, handing him a pale blue porcelain plate. “I don’t invest in frivolities.”

“Fair enough.”

Itachi was kind of giggly, playful, in the kitchen. He cupped up a handful of dish soap bubbled and blew them into Kisame’s chest.

“What are you doing?” Kisame laughed, brushing them off of his shirt.

Itachi only shrugged, something of a coy gesture, rinsing off his hands and drying them.

Kisame could only think that wine was a wonderful, wonderful thing.

In all seriousness, though, Kisame really was glad that Itachi seemed to have at least _some_ human counterpart in there. When Itachi loosened up enough, he acted—really differently. And though Kisame was quite attached to sober Itachi, buzzed Itachi let himself have more fun, and Kisame liked that a lot, too.

“Go back to the couch, babe, I’m gonna take a leak real quick.”

Itachi nodded, spreading the damp rag out over the brim of the sink counter.

Upon returning to his date, Kisame found Itachi fidgeting on the couch. His legs were folded under him, toes flexing.

“Something wrong?” Kisame asked, resettling into the cushions, reaching a hand out to touch Itachi’s thigh.

Itachi shook his head, taking Kisame’s hand from his thigh and holding it in both of his. He kissed the finger tips. “You have big hands.”

“You know what they say about people with big hands,” Kisame guffawed.

“That they have big dicks,” Itachi replied easily, unperturbed. “Yes, yes, I know. Are you saying you fit the criteria?”

Kisame’s grin somehow widened. “Are you asking?”

Itachi blinked. “How big is your dick?”

Kisame nearly choked. “Excuse me?”                                                                                                                                                                              

Itachi shrugged. “You brought it up. Now I’m curious.”

Kisame chuckled a little, a surprised blush marring his cheeks. “How much exactly have you had to drink?” He had thought that he had only had two glasses, but checking the glass he saw a little more.

Itachi merely waved a hand. “Not much. Why are you avoiding the question?” Itachi took another sip of wine. “That bad?”

Kisame pressed his lips together, shaking his head. “I assure you, Itachi, if we get to that point…you’ll be satisfied.”

Itachi hummed.

Kisame grinned. “Don’t believe me? I’m always up for a challenge.”

Itachi snorted, taking another swig. “You don’t need to worry, it’s not like I have much reference to go off of.”

Kisame paused. “Wait, what does that mean?” He blinked. “You’re not a virgin, are you?” He hadn’t always gone easy with the sex jokes.

“No, but I’ve only had sex with one person. And he never…” Itachi waved a hand vaguely, leaning into the couch cushions.

“Never what?” Kisame raised an eyebrow.

Itachi gave him a look.

“He never made you come?” Kisame looked…flabbergasted.

Itachi shrugged, watching his wine swirl around the edges of the glass as he twirled it.

“Itachi— _what_? Sex isn’t _sex_ if both people don’t get off.”

Itachi shrugged again. “It was whatever.” He set his wine glass down, scooting over closer to Kisame. “But now at least you know you won’t have to try very hard.”

“Itachi, of course I—Itachi—of course I would still _try_ ” he shook his head. He knew it was probably pointless to talk sense into Itachi, especially not a maybe-maybe not tipsy Itachi. Instead he hummed. “One person though…hm.”

“What?”

Kisame grinned a little. “Nothing. It’s just that your minimum experience will keep your reactions pretty raw.” He slipped his hands across Itachi’s waist.

Itachi raised an eyebrow. “I’m not exactly sure what you mean by that, but alright. What about you?”

“Me?”

“How much sex have you had? With that big dick of yours.”

“Oh.” Kisame shifted. “A decent amount.”

Itachi snorted out a laugh. “You’re a whore, aren’t you!” He accused jokingly.

Kisame glared. “Shut up, Itachi. I don’t have that much sex. I haven’t had sex in over eight months.”

“I haven’t had sex in two years. I win!”

Kisame laughed. “Okay, you’re a _much_ more fun drunk than I imagined.”

“I’m not drunk,” Itachi assured.

“Perhaps, but you have so many layers of inhibitions that the moments you get a break you go crazy.”

Itachi raised an eyebrow. “This is not ‘going crazy,’” he insisted.

“For you it is,” Kisame replied easily, one hand rubbing his back.

Itachi rolled his eyes, leaning forward to set his wine glass down. “You say the weirdest things, do you know that?”

“ _I_ say the weirdest things?” Kisame laughed, opening his arms as Itachi crawled towards him. “I should record you sometime.”

Itachi pushed himself into his lap, locking his fingers around Kisame’s neck. He stared into his eyes for a couple of seconds.

“Hi,” Kisame said, lopsided smile forming along his lips.

“Hi,” Itachi replied.

Kisame chuckled gruffly. “There something you want from me?”

Itachi tilted his head. “You could kiss me.”

That wasn’t really something Kisame had to think about. Letting his hands run down Itachi’s back, he pressed their lips together, squeezing Itachi’s hips. They kissed for a little bit, softly and slowly—there didn’t feel to be any rush, they were simply enjoying each other’s company and presence. Eventually Itachi pulled back, thumbs brushing along the sinew of Kisame’s neck. He stared at him for a moment. Kisame couldn’t quite decipher the look in his eyes, though the corners of his lips were still upturned.

Itachi pressed another kiss to Kisame’s lips. “I like your face angles.”

Kisame laughed. “My face what now?”

“The angles of your face,” Itachi repeated. “Your jaw line, and your cheekbones….”

Kisame grinned. “You think I’m pretty hot, huh?”

Itachi rolled his eyes. “You already knew that.”

He shrugged a little. “Maybe. Still nice to hear, regardless.”

Itachi kissed the tip of his nose. “Kisame, I find your physical appearance very appealing.”

“Geez—you’re such a nerd. I’d almost prefer no compliments.”

Itachi paused, then snorted. “Fine. You’re hot.”

“Much better.”

Itachi adjusted his legs, letting Kisame pull him closer. It was hard to resist with those hands on his hips. “Kisame,” he murmured, letting his head fall to the side, long hair slipping down his shoulder.

That was _dangerous._

“Yes,” Kisame replied, throaty, skirting one finger underneath Itachi’s shirt to rub against his skin stretched taught around his bone.

“What are you doing tomorrow morning?”

“Tomorrow?” Kisame grinned. “What, already wanting to come over in the morning?”

“No,” Itachi hummed. He raised a finger to curl a lock of Kisame’s hair. “I was actually going to ask if I could spend the night.”

Kisame’s face snapped into a stunned expression, eyebrows climbing his forehead slowly. Eventually a grin spread across his face, nice and slow and excited. “…yeah? For real?”

“Not for sex,” Itachi clarified, tilting his head to the other side, tugging at the neckline of Kisame’s shirt. “Just to sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kisame shook his head, grin still firmly in place, “of course, I didn’t think you meant that. Just—” he squeezed Itachi’s waist, “that’s…good. Yeah, that’s good.”

Itachi allowed himself a small smile. “I’m glad you think so,” he said, somewhat sarcastically. “I don’t have any clothes, though, and I’ll need a toothbrush.”

“I have plenty of hoodies,” Kisame teased with a grin, “but I won’t be opposed if you want to sleep naked.”

Itachi rolled his eyes, letting his forehead rest against Kisame’s. “Of course not.”

Kisame studied Itachi’s face for a moment, taking in each detail as it rested to close to his own. “You are so fucking beautiful, Itachi.”

“You tend to say that,” Itachi responded quietly, fingers brushing against the base of Kisame’s throat.

“Kiss me?” he asked, tugging on Itachi’s shirt.

Itachi met his lips easily, cupping his face with both hands. “Mm, wait,” he said suddenly, pulling back.

“No, don’t wait, keep kissing me,” Kisame complained. “Babe.”

“I have to call Sasuke,” he said, patting his pockets for his phone. He frowned.

“It’s in the Kitchen,” Kisame reminded.

Itachi hopped up off the couch. “Right!” He quickly retrieved his phone from the kitchen, already dialing up his brother’s number as he hopped back onto the couch, snuggled up against Kisame’s side.

He smiled at the kiss to the hair he got.

“Sasuke,” Itachi said warmly as he answered the phone. “Hey, it’s me.” There was a pause, and then he laughed. “Okay, okay. I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to stay that night at Kisame’s tonight.” There was a _long_ beat of silence. “Sasuke?” Itachi asked quietly. “No, no, I’m the one that suggested it. Sasuke. Look, listen to me—” Something on his face changed, and he bit his lip. “No. No.” Another pause. “I guess not.” His eyes were cast down, fingers absently tugging at the sleeve of Kisame’s shirt. “Of course we’ve been kissing, he’s my boyfriend, Sasuke.” He glanced at the wine glass on the table. “Kind of. No, I’ve had two glasses of wine. I’m not drunk.” He huffed. “Yes, a little.”

Sasuke started yelling loud enough for Kisame to hear over the speaker. “ _He’s getting you drunk and convincing you to sleep over?! Itachi, get the fuck out of his house. I’ll come get you right now.”_

Kisame frowned.

“No, Sasuke, I was the one who said I wanted to spend the night. He didn’t even ask. No, Sasuke—I’m not going to have sex with him! Could you listen to me?”

 _“He’s manipulating you, Itachi, he’s going to take advantage of you, he’s going to_ hurt _you_ —”

“Sasuke!” Itachi’s voice cracked. “Hey, breathe, calm down. It’s okay, Kisame isn’t going to hurt me, I promise.” He held the phone with both hands. “I _know_ you don’t trust _him_ , but could you trust me? Please?” His face fell a little. “I know. I promise you, I know.” He exchanged a few more words with his brother, switching over to Japanese at one point. “Okay, I promise. I love you, Sasuke, you can call me if you need anything.”

Kisame eyed him warily. “Itachi, if you need to—”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He gave him a reassuring smile, setting his phone down on the table.

“Sasuke…sounded upset. What did he say?”

Itachi’s eyes unfocused for a second. “Just that he wouldn’t forgive me if it happened to me again.”

The words ‘if what happened’ were on the tips of Kisame’s lips but—Itachi would tell him when he wanted. So, instead, he said, “And you’re going to risk that? For me?”

“Yes,” Itachi replied quietly. “I trust you.”

The weight of just how much Itachi was trusting him sunk in. _Something_ had happened, that was obvious from the first few encounters. There were still seams of self-doubt and self-loathing stitched across Itachi’s very being from when he had to be patched up. He was _starved_ for affection, since he reacted, even subtly, to ever time Kisame so much as brushed against him. Kisame knew this, he had for a while, but seeing it in action was a little different. But it was a big deal.

“I’m...very glad that you do,” Kisame replied lamely, at a loss for words, “don’t get me wrong, I’m just a little surprised, is all.”

Itachi shrugged, leaning against the couch and pulling his legs up. “My last boyfriend wasn’t good for me. He was the first serious relationship I’d had, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I haven’t had anyone since. I don’t have any friends—I’ve honestly never had friends. The closest thing was that cousin I was telling you about, Shisui, but like I said, he was murdered.”

“Christ,” Kisame muttered, scooting a little closer.

He ran a hand over his hair. “Sasuke and I don’t even have a good relationship.”

Kisame frowned. “You two love each other more than anyone else I’ve ever met.”

“And love is well and good, but it isn’t the only thing you need in a functioning relationship. I’m self-aware enough to know that Sasuke and I are a mess together.”

Kisame stayed silent, opting to listen until Itachi was done.

“I want…I want whatever we have to be good. For as long as this lasts, for whatever this is, I want it to be _healthy._ And me running around watching my back every time we are together isn’t going to help.” He sighed. “I don’t know. I just can’t keep living like this, I have to figure out how to change. You’re…my opportunity for that.” He cracked a little smile.

“So is that all I am to you,” Kisame joked, “a social experiment?”

Itachi’s head snapped up at first, a panicked look in his eyes, but when he saw Kisame’s grin he relaxed, eyes crinkling in a smile. “Yeah, sorry about that. I really do hope you don’t mind.”

“You know I don’t. Seriously though,” Kisame paused for emphasis. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do, yeah? For you, or for Sasuke. To make things easier.”

Itachi smiled a little. “Actually, there is one thing.”

“Anything,” Kisame promised, sincerity ringing through the word.

“I assure you it’s not much,” Itachi replies with a laugh. “I’m kind of really tired.”

“Of course, of course.” It was getting late, Kisame noted, almost eleven, and wine was notorious for making people sleepy. He led Itachi upstairs and into his room, flicking the light on. Itachi went to inspect the bed, rubbing the curtains draped around the canopy frame in between his fingers while Kisame hunted up something that would fit him. He dug a gray t-shirt out of the back of his closet. It was made out of soft cotton, and would be oversized on Itachi. He also located the sweatpants Itachi had borrowed when he stayed over during the rainstorm.

“This should fit you pretty well,” he said, walking over to Itachi by the bed. “And again, if they don’t, feel free to sleep naked.”

Itachi snorted, taking the clothes from Kisame. “Yes, that’s what I’ll do—sleep in the nude and tell Sasuke first thing in the morning.”

Kisame chuckled, reaching behind him to grab the back of his shirt and pull it over his head. “Change in the bathroom, there are spare toothbrushes in the cardboard box under the sink.”

He stripped naked while Itachi was in the bathroom, replacing his boxers with a pair of clean ones. He usually slept in only underwear, but for the sake of keeping Itachi comfortable, dug a pair of thin, navy blue sweats out of his drawer. He opened the window, as per usual, and closed the white shutters.

The bathroom door clicked open; Itachi already had a foamy toothbrush in his mouth.

“Do you need in here?” He asked.

“Yeah, yeah, lemme brush my teeth, too, and wash my face.”

They finished getting ready, Kisame staying in the bathroom to remove his earrings. When he reproached the bed, Itachi was sitting cross legged on one side. He blinked at him.

“Um—” He looked like he didn’t know how to finish his thought.

“Yeah?” Kisame asked, walking around to crawl into the other side of the bed.

“…nipple rings?” Itachi asked, raising a brow at the glistening silver on Kisame’s chest.

“Oh, right.” Kisame grinned hugely. “I didn’t tell you about that. Pretty sick, right?” He sat across from Itachi.

Itachi cleared his throat. “You don’t take them out along with your other piercings?”

“Nah. My ears have been done for a while, but these are more recent, I got em not long after after I broke it off with Sandy. You aren’t supposed to remove em for more than a few minutes until like a year and a half goes by. And your body heals more readily when you’re asleep, so, in they stay.”

Itachi reached out, hooking the end of his pointer finger on the bottom. He tugged a little. “Does that hurt?”

“It only hurts if you yank on it too hard. Anything less usually causes a…different reaction.”

“…right.” Itachi retracted his hand.

“I kinda want to switch them to barbells, but my piercer told me to wait longer. I don’t want to have to repuncture anything, it hurt like a bitch enough the first time.”

“I can only imagine,” Itachi muttered, pulling the tie out of his hair.

Kisame laughed. “Ready for bed, then?”

Itachi’s eyes flicked a few times, gaze tracing the naked curves of his chest. “Not quite,” he murmured quietly, leaning forward onto his knees. He splayed his hands onto Kisame’s skin, molding his fingers to the swells of muscle on Kisame’s abdomen. Slowly, he dragged his hand up, eyes following the contours as he felt them, and paused on Kisame’s chest. He held his hands until the cool metal of Kisame’s rings warmed under his palms.

He was distracted by the bobbing of Kisame’s throat when he swallowed.

He held eye contact with Kisame’s glassy eyes as he leaned forward to press kisses to his collar bone.

“Holy shit,” Kisame choked, hands twitching around the bedsheets.

Itachi muffled a laugh into his skin—his _warm_ skin—and kissed him one more time.

Kisame’s warm hand cupped Itachi’s jawline. “Now are you ready for bed?” His voice was a little smaller than he intended.

Itachi nodded with a sweet smile, pulling the sheets back on his side.

Kisame’s entire body was kind of buzzing as he reached over to flick the light off on his nightstand. Itachi was in his bed, _Itachi was in his bed._ And while one part of his body thought of exactly what they could be doing, the majority of his brain was very intent on not ruining this. So, he settled into his side of the bed, a very clear and distinct line between them. He laid on his side, facing Itachi, slowly being able to make out the features of his face in the dark room as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

“Wow.”

“Hm?” Kisame asked.

“This isn’t really how I imagined you acting when we got in bed together.”

Kisame didn’t really know if he should smile or not, if Itachi was upset or making a joke. “I, uh—just didn’t want to push anything. Am I doing something wrong?”

“Yes.”

…oh.

“Uh—” Kisame started to sit up.

With a dramatic sigh, Itachi pushed himself across the middle of the bed, forcing Kisame’s arm up and laying it across his waist. He took the liberty to share a pillow, one hand slipping underneath the cool fabric, the other reaching forward to press against Kisame’s bare chest.

“If I wanted to sleep with zero physical contact, I would have gone home to my own bed,” Itachi muttered.

Kisame unfroze, sinking back down into the soft mattress. He shifted forward, a little tentatively, until he could press his lips against Itachi’s hair. “Sorry,” he murmured, “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Itachi sighed contentedly. “Don’t apologize.” After a moment, “Thank you for being so considerate. Not just now, but in everything. I know this isn’t really saying all that much, but you’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

Kisame grinned in the darkness. “Damn straight. Just wait till we fuck.”

Itachi snorted. “Okay, I take it back, you aren’t polite at all,” he teased.

The hand on Itachi’s waist gave a playful squeeze. “I’m only kidding. You know that.”

“ _Half_ kidding,” Itachi corrected knowingly. Kisame could see his slight smile in the darkness.

“Well—yeah. Not to brag, but I _am_ pretty good.”

Itachi shook his head, shifting a little so Kisame was more on his back, Itachi pressed against his side. His forehead rested next to Kisame’s shoulder. His breathing was evening out when he grabbed Kisame’s hand, directing it down until it laid on his ass.

Kisame’s eyebrows shot up his forehead, fingers twitching of their own accord. “What’s this?”

He felt Itachi shrug. “I don’t know. Whatever.”

“Whatever,” Kisame repeated, letting his hand squeeze a little. After a beat, “Nice.”

Itachi snorted, wiggling a bit. “Shut up, you’re making it weird.”

“Fine, fine.” He moved his hand back up to Itachi’s back. “There.”

Itachi was quiet. His fingers, which had previously been tapping against Kisame’s collarbone, stilled.

Kisame stared at him for a few more seconds before he let his eyes close, pulling him a hair closer.

“Night, Itachi.”

“Goodnight,” came Itachi’s sleep slurred voice.

Kisame let a smile slip onto his lips as he sank into sleep.

\--

Kisame was roused into consciousness slowly. He first became aware of the warm weight pressed against him. He could hear quiet breathing, and feel a gentle rise and fall in the warm body next to him. He shifted, pulling Itachi closer. As he fully awoke, he realized that he had black hair wound around his face as if he was spooning fucking Ju-on.

He removed an arm from beneath the blankets to push it to the side.

“Babe?” His voice was thick and groggy with sleep. Itachi didn’t respond in his arms. Kisame nuzzled his head forward into the back of Itachi’s neck, letting himself absorb the soft movements of Itachi breathing. After a few moments he squeezed his sleeping partner. “Itachi, wake up.” When still he did not react, he rolled him over onto his back, moving on top of him. “Itachi,” he murmured into his skin, in the spot just above his jaw, behind his ear.

Itachi shifted slightly, the muscles of his thighs tensing a bit before he went completely limp again.

Kisame kissed his cheek. “Time to wake up.”

“Five more minutes,” Itachi slurred, pushing his face into the pillow next to him.

Kisame conceded easily, essentially sprawled out on top of him. Itachi breathed evenly and softly underneath him, his skin warm and so very inviting. Kisame spent the next time just—watching him. It took a lot of will power, but eventually Kisame shook his shoulder. “Itachi, it’s been over five minutes. Wake up.”

Itachi wiggled. “No.”

Kisame squeezed him.

“Five more minutes,” Itachi mumbled nearly incoherently.               

Kisame stared down at his face for a moment. “Five more minutes,” he agreed softly.

This went on for about _twenty_ more minutes. Though Kisame had no qualms holding Itachi and watching him rest, he knew that he had to go home soon to tutor, and he didn’t want the rest of the morning to whittle away in bed.

“Itachi.”

“Five more—”

“It’s already almost eight,” Kisame complained, mostly teasing. “Are you gonna stay in bed until you have to leave, or are you gonna get up and talk to me?”

“Stay in bed.”

“Babe,” Kisame groaned, letting his head tilt down. He kissed Itachi’s inky black hair.

“Shhhh,” Itachi murmured, adjusting himself into a comfier position. “Go back to sleep.”

Kisame wrinkled his nose, drawing his head back just enough to glare at Itachi’s sleeping face. His fucking _cute_ sleeping face. “You don’t wanna wake up? You just wanna ignore me until you go to work? So that’s how it is.”

Itachi slowly opened his eyes. “I never thought you would ever try to get me _out_ of your bed.”

Kisame grinned. “I know. This is truly an out of body experience.”

Itachi squinted his eyes as they adjusted, his nose wrinkling. He sniffed.

“You’re cute when you wake up.” Kisame had a goofy grin on his face. He let his eyes absorb every detail of Itachi’s face as he could, reaching up a thumb to trace the curved tear trough hugging Itachi’s cheek. He felt feeling sleepy all over again when he looked into Itachi’s eyes.

“Good morning,” Itachi murmured after several seconds of silence, eyes full of encrypted emotion.

“Morning.” Kisame let his head slump down, pressing his nose into Itachi’s cheek. “How did you sleep, beautiful?”

His lips twitched in a brief smile. “I always sleep better with someone.”

Kisame grinned. “Yeah? Well, then, for you own benefit, you should probably stay the night from now on.”

“You’d like that, huh?”

“More than you could probably guess.”

Itachi smiled. He brought a hand up to Kisame’s hair, running his fingers through it. “Hm. Maybe I will.”

“Don’t tease.”

“Kisame, I’ve literally never teased you.”

Kisame groaned, dragging his head back to look him in the eyes. “You just enjoy torturing me, huh?”

Itachi bit his lip for a quick second. “Maybe.” He looked like he was going to say something more, but then a funny little scrunch formed between his eyebrows.

“Something the matter?”

Itachi blinked at him. “Kisame.”

“Yes?”

“You have an erection.”

Kisame paused. “Huh,” he said. “Looks like you’re right.”

Itachi raised an eyebrow.

“What,” Kisame defended, “you’ve never heard of morning wood?”

Itachi closed his eyes. “Are you planning on removing it from my thigh?”

“Do you _want_ me to remove it from your thigh?”

“Why else would I ask?”            

“Maybe you were worried that I would, and wanted to stop me before you had to beg for me to put it back. Or put it in various other places.”

One corner of Itachi’s lips twitched. “You’re so obnoxious.”

“You seemed quite fascinated by my dick last night.”

Itachi cracked one eye open. “And if you ever want me to get officially acquainted with it, I would recommend that you shut your mouth.”

“Are you threatening to withhold sex before we have even _started_ having sex?”

Itachi smirked a little. “It’s working, isn’t it?”

Kisame snorted. He looked down at Itachi, at his sleepy eyes and absurdly long lashes, and the creases that separated his cheeks from his nose he was becoming so fond of. He had a little color in his cheeks, though, a little glow in the back of his eyes that he didn’t have when Kisame first met him.

And, well, fuck if Kisame wasn’t proud of being the one to put it there.

“You sure you don’t want to take care of it? Last chance.”

Itachi’s hooded eyes did nothing but slowly blink at him.

“Fine.” Kisame kissed forehead. “You win.”                                                   

Kisame rolled off of him to the side, using his hand to try and shove his dick in between his legs. It didn’t work, so he flipped himself onto his stomach.

Itachi slowly pushed himself up, the sheets sliding off of his shoulders and pooling in his lap. His face scrunched up as he stretched, back arching out, his arms reaching above his head. He dropped his hands back down into his lap, shoulders immediately slumping forwards again. His hair was a mess; some of it stuck to the side of his cheek, some of it tangled against his neck.

“You didn’t braid your hair,” Kisame commented absently.

“Hm?” Itachi turned slightly to look down at him.

“You usually braid your hair when you go to bed. You didn’t last night.”

Itachi tilted his head, a slightly confused expression tugging at his lips and creasing his forehead. “You remember that?”

Kisame was muddled. “Of course I would remember that. Why would I forget that?”

Itachi blinked. He smiled, then, a sweet smile, and shrugged his shoulders with one quick bounce; it was reminiscently childish, Kisame thought.

“Do you want to shower?”

Itachi nodded slowly. “Mm, yeah, sure. What about you?”

Kisame shrugged. “I can shower after you leave. Bathroom’s over there, if you forgot.” He raised one arm to point lazily at the open door before letting it flop back down onto the bed.

Itachi rolled his eyes, pushing his legs out of the sheets and pressing them to the cold wood paneled floor. He stretched again as he stood up, feeling the muscles in his hips pull as he twisted his back.

“Mm,” Kisame crooned, words muffled somewhat by the pillow his face was buried in, “that’s a lovely view.”

Itachi turned around, raising an eyebrow. “What are you still doing in bed?”

“I just wanted to look at your ass as you stood up.”

Itachi crossed his arms, facing Kisame as he walked backwards to the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” Kisame laughed.

“Hiding my butt from you,” he replied easily.

“So I can touch it, but I can’t look at it? That doesn’t make sense,” Kisame teased.

“You’re completely right. You can’t touch it anymore, either.”

Kisame snorted as Itachi closed the bathroom door. He laid in bed for a few more minutes, letting the warm, bubbly feeling in his chest filter its way through his system. He heard the shower turn on, the familiar sound of water spraying against the stone tiled walls sliding under the door. He buried his face into the pillow, willing his hard on to calm down so he could get up and pee. He eventually got out of bed, heading downstairs to use the bathroom and wash his face. He could hear the rush of water in the pipes above him as Itachi showered.

After brushing his teeth, he made his way into the kitchen. He had hash browns in the freezer, and half a carton of eggs. There were enough fruits and greens to make a smoothie, too. He got some of the ingredients out and spread them out on the counter.

He was tossing kale and spinach into the Vitamix when he heard Itachi’s footsteps—just barely, he walked so quietly—on the kitchen tile.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

Kisame turned with a grin and—the breath was knocked out of his lungs.

He didn’t really know _why_. Itachi was wearing the same clothes from the day before, his hair was damp and hanging around pulled back like it always was.

Maybe it was just the fact that he was there, that he spent the night, and now he was _there_. And it felt so good, something about it resonated in him and he didn’t want it to go away.

“Did…” Itachi glanced down at his legs. “Did I forget to put pants on or something? What’s going on? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Kisame didn’t respond.

“Uh, Kisa—”                                         

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“What?” There was a laugh in Itachi’s throat, and his eyebrows rose up. “Kisame, what are you talking about?”

“Come here?” He asked, eyebrows set inwards.

Itachi walked lightly forward and into his arms, fingers immediately curling around his neck.

Kisame leaned in for a kiss, his arms against the small of Itachi’s back. There was some sort of…calm that billowed in his chest as Itachi’s slight body melted against him. There was something about Itachi’s lips, moving softly and gently against his, that tasted so wonderful, so good he was beginning to think that he would never get enough. 

He tugged on the wet tips of Itachi’s hair, feeling moisture gather against the pads of his fingers. Itachi tilted his head, attempting to push closer, letting the kiss deepen.

“Itachi?” He asked in murmur, licking his bottom lip and then kissing his cheek.

“Yes?”

“Can I touch your butt again?”

Itachi snorted out loud, leaning his head back to laugh.

“What? It was an honest question.”

Itachi glared playfully at him for a few moments, a smile fighting along his lips. “ _Yes_. You can touch my butt.”

“Kiss me again,” Kisame said, leaning in again as his hands slid down Itachi’s back, grasping at the swell of his muscles and the dip at his spin.

They stayed like that for a few more minutes. Kisame couldn’t keep his hands off him; he was fairly certain he was losing his mind, and it was all Itachi’s fault.

“What time do you need to go home?” He asked against Itachi’s forehead.

“Soon. Forty five minutes or so.”

Kisame groaned. “That sucks.” He took a step back, wrinkling his nose. “I’ll get breakfast going, so you can eat before you have to leave.”

“You don’t need to cook me breakfast. I’m not going to eat, anyways.”

“And why aren’t you going to eat?”

“I’ve told you—eating in the morning makes my stomach unwell.”

Kisame raised an eyebrow.

Itachi looked patient. “I mean it, Kisame. I appreciate the sentiment, really, but please don’t cook me anything.”

Kisame pursed his lips. “Compromise.”

“Compromise?”

“I won’t cook you anything, but you gotta drink at least part of a smoothie. It’s good for you.”

“Smoothie?” Itachi inquired reluctantly.

“I _promise_ you won’t get sick off of it.”

Itachi hummed as he pondered it. “Alright. That sounds fine. What do you put in it?”                       

Kisame grinned. “Lots of green stuff. Fruit. Flax seed milk. Organic greek yogurt.”

“Um….” Itachi raised an eyebrow.

“Shut up.” Kisame grinned, snagging the carton of eggs and plastic bag of hashbrowns off the table and returning them to their proper spots in the fridge. “I take care of my body. How did you think I got to looking this good? I do recall you fawning over my, how did you put it, ‘face angles’ las night.”

Itachi leaned against the counter. “I assure you, that’s all genetics.”

“Then I’ll be expecting you to write a thank you letter to my parents.”

Itachi laughed a little, eyes crinkling in a smile.

He came up behind Kisame, wrapping his arms around Kisame’s thick waist. He stretched up on the balls of his feet to set his chin on top of his shoulder. Kisame hummed, throwing something leafy into the blender.

“What’s that?” Itachi asked.

“Chard.”

“That sounds disgusting,” Itachi murmured.

“Oh, it’s truly awful,” Kisame replied, chuckling. “Don’t worry, I put enough other stuff in here that you can’t even taste it.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Kisame twisted his head around to kiss Itachi’s cheek.

Kisame finished preparing the smoothing, adding a number of ingredients Itachi had never even heard of, and blending it up into one thick goop. He poured two glasses full, sliding one in front of Itachi.

“Kisame,” Itachi began.

“Yeah?”

“Did you mean for this to be gray.”

Kisame laughed. “Don’t write it off for the color. Just try it.”

Itachi did try it. The texture was weird, but overall it really wasn’t bad. It was cool in his mouth and throat, and he could tell it would be easy on his stomach. “Not awful,” he conceded.

Kisame grinned.

The two of them sat down at Kisame’s kitchen table. The morning light filled the room with a happy kind of glow, the light wash of the cabinets and floor assisting in the cheery mood. The silence was easy and welcomed, so they didn’t say much.

The silence wasn’t broken until Itachi was finishing off his smoothie. “I had a lot of fun last night.”

Kisame grinned, his eyes warm. “Me too.”

Itachi kept his eyes on the table. “I meant what I said. About trusting you, about wanting this relationship to be a good one.”

“I know. Me too.”

Itachi tapped the table. “You know that this is going pretty fast for me, right?”

“Yeah,” Kisame replied gruffly, spinning his empty glass on the table. “I do. And I know I make a lot of jokes, but I’m not trying to push anything. You know that, right?”

Itachi nodded, smiling a little, and took the last gulp of his smoothie.

His phone buzzed on the table.

“Oh,” he said, sounding surprised.

“What’s wrong?”                                                                                                                

“Nothing, just—Sasuke decided to pick me up. He’s borrowing Suigetsu’s car, he said he’ll be here in five minutes.

Kisame frowned at the table. He didn’t want Itachi to be gone in five minutes.

“Sorry,” Itachi said, reading the look on Kisame’s face.

“Nah, nah,” Kisame waved a hand, getting up to put the glasses in the sink. “It’s fine. I got you all night, I’m sure he’s jealous.” He sent Itachi a wink.

“You’re actually—probably not wrong.”

Kisame laughed, leaning back against the counter.

When Sasuke did arrive, he texted Itachi to come outside.

“Should I go say hi?” Kisame asked, standing in the foyer in front of the door.

“Probably not the best idea,” Itachi advised, putting his shoes on. “Sasuke is going to ask me a million and a half questions on the ride home, so—maybe when he isn’t already angry.”

“Is you’re brother ever going to be _not_ angry at the prospect of you being alone with me?”

Itachi wrinkled his nose. “Maybe. Maybe not. Sasuke’s…moody, sometimes. I’m sure he’ll warm up to you, eventually.”

“Maybe if I offer him a dowry of one hundred of my finest livestock, maybe then he’ll accept me as a fit suitor.”

Itachi snorted. “Only one hundred? Don’t go offending him, now, I’m sure he’ll barter for at least one hundred and fifty.”

Kisame grinned, grabbing Itachi’s hands and pulling him close. “Come back soon, yeah?”

Itachi nodded, tilting his head up for a quick kiss.

“Now hurry, before Sasuke honks and all my neighbors get pissed for waking them up.”

After Kisame closed the door behind Itachi, he leaned back, knocking his head against the wood.

When you missed someone the moment they were out of sight, were you fucked in a good or bad way?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been in a huge writers block, so I'm not satisfied with a great deal of this, but I figured you deserved...something. I don't really know why, but I'm kind of becoming unsure of this story. I mean, as long as people are reading, I'm going to /finish/ it, and of course I'll do my best, I just feel like...maybe it's not as good as I thought it was when I created it in my head. 
> 
> I was drawing a something using Adonis Bosso as a reference and....face angles....became very important to me. (look up Sang Woo Kim he is literally walking art)
> 
> Ju-on is from The Grudge. In the video game her hair is like an appendage of it's own and grabs on and wraps around shit. Have you ever snuggled with someone who has long hair? It can be a struggle. Always makes me fondly think of her (hehhh)
> 
> Also when I typed out the skeleton for this story I anticipated these scenes being so much longer but they ended up being short so this is shorter than I imagine by far? I'm not sure how this happened but uh. 
> 
> The story gets heavier from here. Not angsty angsty, just more serious topics. There's a lot more about Itachi's past and where some of his demons stemmed from. WhOO.
> 
> -pokes fingers together- not to self advertise or anything....but...if you want to check it out I wrote a shiita fic for Valentines Day -hides face-
> 
> ALSO comments make my day <3 so please, if you have even a single thought, I would be overjoyed to hear it. 
> 
> Thank you to every single person who has read this all so far, you've made me incredibly happy. I'll see you soon (can i still say that and get away with it) for the next chapter!
> 
> ^^


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically only Itachi's character development. It was originally a lot more, but then...well...author's only have so much control over their characters. Right?
> 
> Uh, anyways. Life has been rather shitty to me recently. Money problems, family problems. Maybe some subconscious inspiration for this story but. Yeah. It's set me behind a lottttt. 
> 
> Also my laptop broke and it has to go in to be fixed and it will take up to two weeks so. sighs. I really have been wanting to get two chapters out a month...everything has just been going wrong :/
> 
> This chapter is kind of dramatic but. Oh well? The last chapters have been fluffy so. eh.
> 
> And real quick, prostitution is kind of shit talked in this, maybe, kinda. It’s all entirely relative to _Itachi_. And that's just my interpretation (which I won't bore anyone's ear off by extrapolating now, but I can if requested.) It’s not a general disposition, I’m not trying to sweep sex workers under the same blanket or anything. This is just Itachi.
> 
> Also, Sasuke is a total Itachi stan in this but. Ya’ll have read the manga, right?
> 
> If nothing else, you'll at least know the plot of Oedipus Rex by the time this chapter is over. So.
> 
> Enjoy.

“God _dammit_ , Itachi!”

Itachi leaned calmly against the counter. “I do not understand why you are so upset.”

“You don’t— _understand_ why I’m upset?” Sasuke ran both of his hands over his head, frustration curling his fingers and jerking the movement. “You’re being fucking absurd!”

Itachi merely stared at him patiently.

“God,” Sasuke squeezed his eyes shut. “Why do you have to be this way?”

“I’m only looking out for you,” Itachi replied.

“No, you’re fucking not!” Sasuke shouted. “You aren’t even listening to me!”

“You’re being irrational.”

Sasuke’s jaw dropped a little. “ _Irrational_? I’m fucking twenty one, and asking to be treated like an adult is _irrational_?”

Itachi pinched the bridge. “Can we please stop fighting about this now?”

“No! No we fucking cannot.” Sasuke glared.

“Language—”

“Shut the fuck up, Itachi! For two minutes could you listen to me?!”

“I did listen to you. And I disagreed; there’s no reason for all the anger.”

Sasuke pressed his fists to his forehead. “Look—I know that you mean the best. Okay? I know that. But what you are doing right now is _not the best_.”

Itachi rolled his eyes a little.

“Don’t—don’t roll your fucking eyes at me!”

“I _do_ know what’s best for you, Sasuke. I’ve taken care of you your whole life.”

“This isn’t the issue! The issue is _you_. What about _you._ You don’t take care of yourself!”

“And that’s my problem to deal with.” Itachi crossed his arms.

“No, no it fucking isn’t, because I’m your brother, and I’m the one who has to pick up the pieces when you fall apart!”

Itachi’s eyes narrowed a little. “I never asked you to get involved with my problems.”

Sasuke stared at him, wide-eyed. “Do you hear the words coming out of your mouth?!”

Itachi let out a breath. “I still don’t see how this has anything to do with—”

“It has everything to do with what we’re talking about, stop trying to avoid it,” Sasuke snapped. “You’re being too controlling about this.”

Itachi pressed his lips together. “I am your older brother, and you _will_ respect my authority.”

“Since when have I not?!” Sasuke exploded, throwing his arms out to the side. “Name one time I’ve been disrespectful.”

“You’re raising your voice a lot right now,” Itachi replied evenly.

“Because I want to be _treated like an adult._ ”

“My name is on the lease, my name is on the checks I bring home, so _I_ make the rules,” Itachi all but snapped. “And that’s that, so stop arguing with me.”

Something in Sasuke seemed to click, then, and he calmed down a little, arms dropping to his sides. “You’re right.”

Itachi let out a quick sigh, turning around. “Good, I’m glad that’s over. Now—”

“I’m moving out.”

Itachi froze. “…what?”

“You’re right, you’re in control here. But you’re also acting fucking insane, and I can’t live with you anymore if this is how it’s gonna be.”

Itachi blinked down at the counter, unable to say anything because suddenly he couldn’t _breathe_.

“If you want to be this way, _fine_. If you’re just going to ignore me and my feelings and suck someone’s dick for money, clearly I can’t stop you. But you can do it alone, because I’m not going to sit around and watch you kill yourself over your stupid fucking ideologies.”

Itachi still wasn’t looking at him, stuck staring at the counter, muscles literally frozen as his blood seemed to turn cold. He could hear Sasuke’s voice travel down the hallway, and then a door slammed.

The silence rang in his ears, loud enough to hurt, like a bad case of tinnitus. And his skin was crawling, and the walls seemed to be getting smaller. He managed to push himself away from the counter, grabbing the key off the counter.

Sasuke didn’t hear the door click behind him.

\--

Kisame put his dirty dishes in the washer and shut the faucet off. As he dried his hands off on white wash cloth, he heard his phone buzzing on the counter.

“Yeah?” He answered, pushing a chair in to the kitchen table.

“U-uh hey, Kisame.”

“Suigetsu?” The skin of his forehead crinkled a little as his eyebrows rose up. “What a surprise. What’s up?”

“Is Itachi at your place?”

Kisame paused. “No…he isn’t. Why do you ask?”

“He’s—uh. I don’t know. Sasuke’s freaking out.”

“What do you mean. Suigetsu, tell me what happened.” Every nerve ending in his body started buzzing, his whole body feeling like a live wire. “Is Itachi okay?”

“I don’t know, I—yeah, I should probably get back to Sasuke, he’s—he’s freaking the fuck out.”

“ _Suigetsu_ , tell me what happened.”

“Shit, I don’t know. Sasuke said they got into a fight. A really, really bad fight. Itachi up and left and hasn’t been back home, for like, four hours?” He let out a breath. “I don’t know, Sasuke is _really_ upset. He keeps saying that it’s his fault.”

“Is there a place Itachi usually goes to when he’s stressed?” Kisame asked, grabbing his truck keys off of the counter and making his way towards the garage.

“No, not that I know of at least. Sasuke doesn’t either, he’s been calling his cell but hasn’t gotten anything. That’s why I called you. I thought maybe you would know where he might go. I was hoping he went to your place.”

Kisame hit the garage door button.

Suigetsu heard the noise over the phone. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll go find him.”

“Do you think he’ll answer your calls?”

“Who knows; I have no idea what he’s thinking right now. I’ll try.” He climbed into his truck, slamming the door loudly.

“And if he doesn’t?”

Kisame twisted his key in the ignition, the familiar engine thrumming to life. He shut the radio off and turned the air to the lowest setting. “It’ll be a scavenger hunt, then, won’t it?”

“You’re gonna drive aimlessly until you find him?”

“You got a better idea?”

“No. No, just—thank you, I guess.”

“Anything. Anything for him,” Kisame grunted. “I’m gonna call him now.” He snapped his seatbelt into place.

“Let me know if you find him. I’ll tell Sasuke you’re looking for him.”

Kisame quickly placed a call to Itachi as soon as Suigetsu hung up, twisting around to look out the back window as he backed out of his garage. The first call went unanswered. He hit redial as he headed down the street.

It took a couple more tries, but eventually, just as Kisame was about to start cursing, the phone clicked with a very quiet “hello.”

“Itachi.” Kisame’s voice came out more relieved than he thought it would.

“Sasuke called you,” Itachi inferred softly.

“Actually, no. Suigetsu did, he said that you skipped out on Sasuke and haven’t been home in a while. Your brother’s worried sick, Itachi.”

“I didn’t want that,” Itachi nearly whispered.

Kisame softened a little at his tone. “I know, babe, it’s okay. Tell me where you are.”

“Why?”

“I’m on my way to come get you.”

“Oh.” He paused. “Sorry. I’m being troublesome.”

“Just tell me where you are,” Kisame repeated patiently, pulling over and turning his hazard lights on.

“…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I didn’t bring my wallet with me when I left. I used the money in my pocket and got on a random bus. When I used it all up I got off at whatever random stop we arrived at. I walked a little.” He sighed. “I’ve never been here before.”

Kisame pressed his lips together. “How were you planning on getting home?”

Itachi didn’t answer.

Kisame tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “Can you tell me what you see?”

“Uh—there’s lots of trees, and the roads here are all dirt. I’m on a cliff, kind of. There’s a ridge and I can see the city—”

“You’re in Pointbluff,” Kisame replied, turning his blinker on and merging back into traffic, “up by the mountain reserves.”

“Oh.”

“Stay there, okay? I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“Yeah,” Itachi muttered. “Okay.”

Kisame arrived at a red light and, after quickly scanning for cops, sent Suigetsu a text.

_He finally answered. He’s not hurt, but he is stupid as hell. I’m going to go get him and I’ll bring him home, but tell Sasuke not to wait up. He got pretty far, it’ll be close to two hours probably._

_fuck, okay. we fuckin owe you for this one. tell him that sasuke loves him, no matter what. probably needs to hear that right now._

Kisame looked down at the text for a moment, wondering what could have transpired.

_I’m sure he knows. I’ll remind him, though._

_that’s the thing. with Itachi you never know. it’s easier for him to deal with the pain of being unloved than accept the fact that people care for him._

Another text a few seconds later. _be careful with what you say to him. ill take care of sasuke._

Kisame merged onto the freeway and tossed his phone onto the passenger seat; he wasn’t _that_ good at texting and driving.

He drove almost fifteen miles over the speed limit, mostly because the lanes were so empty. The only people who headed up to Pointbluff at night were horny teenagers who wanted to get it on in the secrecy of the trees and mountains.

The thought of Itachi accidently walking in on that situation made him snort.

He exited the freeway and navigated his way through backroads until he hit dirt paths that led up a long trail. He followed the curvature along the edge of the foothill. If Itachi could see the city lights, he was most likely at lookout ridge. 

Itachi was indeed where Kisame predicted, sitting on a rock with his knees bent up against his chest, shivering.

“Didn’t remember a jacket?” Kisame asked, getting out of his car and shutting the door behind him. The noise echoed off of the mountains.

Itachi shrugged around a shiver. “Wasn’t thinking very much.”

“Clearly,” Kisame replied blandly. He moved around his car to grab the blanket he kept in the back. “Come here and sit on the hood; it’ll warm you up.”

“Why not just use the heater in your car?”

“”Cause then how would we watch the stars?” He patted the hood.

Itachi stiffly unfolded, hopping onto the hood—which did feel very nice—and murmured out a thanks as Kisame wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. He took a seat next to him.

“Sasuke has a message for you,” he started.

Itachi looked up at him. “A message?”

“He wants you to know that he isn’t mad at you. I was asked to remind you of how much he loves you.”

Itachi frowned a little. “You were asked.”

“What?”

“’You were asked,’ not ‘Sasuke asked me.’”

Kisame chuckled. “Observant. I didn’t talk to him, Suigetsu spoke to me for him. Sasuke was too upset to talk to me himself.”

Itachi’s eyes changed at that, and he looked away, towards the dusty ground illuminated by Kisame’s headlights. “I love him, too.”

Kisame grinned, leaning back. There was very little light pollution where they were, and the stars were bright, contrasted intensely against the black sky. “I know. Makes me wonder how this all happened.”

“We fought.” Itachi rested his chin on his knees.

“So I was told.”

There was a moment of silence. The distant sound of traffic whisked up the mountain side, gently, as if it was being carried with the light breeze, and Kisame’s engine clicked beneath them as it calmed down. Kisame could smell the stringy leaves of the pepper trees around them.

“What do you need from me, Itachi,” Kisame eventually asked, letting his hand roll to the side, fingers brushing the denim fabric at Itachi’s hip. 

Itachi turned his head to look at him.

“I don’t know how to help, but you know I’ll do whatever you need.”

Itachi opened his mouth fruitlessly.

“Tell me what happened.”

“…I told Sasuke.”

“About what?” He looped his finer through Itachi’s belt strap.

Itachi tapped his toes in his shoe. “About last summer.” He ran his hands over his head. “That I’m practically a whore.”

“Hey,” Kisame snapped, yanking Itachi’s jeans, “don’t fucking say that.”

Itachi shrugged. “That’s what Sasuke called me.”

Kisame paused for a moment. “Really?”

“Really,” Itachi replied dryly, crossing his arms.

Kisame sat up, putting a hand over Itachi’s. “That must be why he’s so upset. You know that he didn’t mean it.”

“Yes, he did.”

“Itachi—”

“I know that he was angry, but anger in and of itself does not cause someone to say things they don’t mean; it causes people to say things they would normally have the inhibitions not to.”

“Itachi, look at me. Itachi.” He waited until Itachi met his gaze. “Suigetsu told me how upset Sasuke was. He didn’t mean it, he was probably just trying to hurt you.

“And that’s supposed to be better?”

“Yes, because he didn’t believe it. You know he didn’t, Itachi.”

Itachi just shrugged, looking away.

Kisame’s fingertips caught the ends of Itachi’s hair, tapping his thumb against them a few times. “Why did you end up telling him?” He asked.

Itachi bit his lips, staring at the dust swirl through the air, illuminated by the yellow light from Kisame’s headlights. “Remember what I told you when I slept over?”

“About what?” Kisame asked, curling his fingers around Itachi’s wrist.

Itachi let out a little breath. “I told you how Sasuke and I had a messy relationship, that we weren’t healthy.”

“Right,” Kisame murmured. “That’s why you told him?”

“I wanted to be honest,” he whispered. “I’ve told you that I have a problem with lying. I lie to Sasuke a _lot_ , because I don’t want him to worry, or because he doesn’t need to face how bad the truth is.” He ran a hand over his hair. “But I know that’s not good. I know I shouldn’t, so I wanted to fix it…. I thought he would be understanding, but…he was just so _angry_.”

Kisame squeezed Itachi’s wrist. “Your brother’s hot tempered,” he justified.

“You don’t get it, this wasn’t just an outburst…he was honestly _angry_ with me.” Itachi pressed his forehead to his knees. “He’s never acted that way towards me.”

“I’m sorry,” Kisame murmured. He thought in silence for a couple of seconds. “You said you fought, right? What about?”

Itachi shrugged a little. “He still wants to get a job, I told him no.”

Kisame frowned. “Itachi….”

“He has to focus on school, Kisame.”

“Itachi, shit, man, I know that you’re sensitive about this but—I worked _two_ jobs through college. Do you know how many students work alongside school? Like, almost all of them. You can get jobs at desks and shit so you can work and study at the same time.”

Itachi stiffened. He didn’t say anything.

Kisame sighed. “I know, you never went to school, and you want Sasuke to have everything that you didn’t. I get it. But Sasuke is his own person, he deserves to make his own decisions.”

“I know what’s best for him,” Itachi insisted. “He has the rest of his life to work, he doesn’t need to do that now.”

Kisame tapped his hand against the hood, trying to think of an angle. He knew he could call Itachi selfish or overbearing, and that would get to him, but that would also _hurt_ him. He could be gentle, which would spare Itachi’s fragile feelings, would probably never break through his stubborn wall of brotherly ideology.

“You said you wanted a healthy relationship with him, right?” He tried, tucking the blanket around his neck.

Itachi nodded just barely, turning his head a little to meet Kisame’s eyes.

“Honesty is a good start, especially if you have a habbit of keeping things from him. But that’s not the only thing, ya know?” He pushed black hair behind Itachi’s ear. “At my place, you were saying that you trust me. You gotta trust him, too.”

“I do,” Itachi answered reflexively.

“You _don’t_. You don’t trust him enough to balance two things at once, you don’t even trust him to know how to make his own decisions.”

Itachi looked away.

“I mean, this isn’t him asking to drop out of school to make a living off of street performance. This is him saying he just wants to get a job to help out.”

“ _Yes_ , but he isn’t pining to answer phone calls in some stuffy office lobby because it’s his passion. He’s doing it because he I couldn’t provide for him.” Itachi’s eyes turned miserable. “Because I failed him, yet again.”

“You haven’t failed anyone, Itachi,” Kisame chastised, snorting. “Enough of that. You work harder than anyone I’ve ever met. You gave up a college education for him. Shit, you nearly gave up your body for him. Besides, he’s an adult. He has the responsibility of taking care of himself.”

Itachi shrugged listlessly. “I should be able to do more.”

Kisame tapped his fingers against the car for a second. “Maybe you can.”

Itachi looked at him just barely.

“Maybe Sasuke would rather have you be his brother than his walking bank account.”

Itachi shrugged a little. “It doesn’t much matter now, I guess.”

Kisame frowned. “Itachi, that’s the type of attitude—”                                                                             

“Sasuke is moving out.”

Kisame blinked. “…What? You’re kicking him out?”

Itachi snorted. “Of course not. This was his decision. I’m…insane.” Before Kisame could protest, he said, “His words, again.”

Kisame sat back, looking at the sky again. “Honestly, Itachi? I can see why he would say that with the way you’ve been treating him.”

Itachi flinched. “I know. That’s why I’m not going to stop him. I’m a horrible brother, I don’t deserve to have him around me.”                                                                                                                   

Kisame let out a gusty sigh. “See, Itachi, that’s the shit that gets you in trouble. You’re all extremes. You gotta learn how to make compromises with him.”

“Compromises,” Itachi repeated dubiously.

“Instead of calling yourself a horrible brother and giving up, figure out how you can fix what you’ve done wrong.”

“If Sasuke wants to move out, I’m not going to stop him.”

“Okay, okay. Just—think about it, yeah? It might not be too late.”

“Sure,” Itachi muttered, staring at the dusty ground.

Kisame stared at him for a moment before reaching out and squeezing his wrist. “Your brother loves you, Itachi. He always will. Don’t forget that, yeah?”

Itachi didn’t say anything.

Kisame sighed again, softer this time, and straightened. “Are you ready to go home?”

He shrugged, but hopped off the car, folding the blanket. He laid it across the bench of Kisame’s back seat.

Kisame fiddled with the heater as he drove along the dirt road. Itachi folded his legs under him and pulled his phone out. Kisame glanced over at him every now and then, but Itachi didn’t look up. The light of his phone reflected on his face in the dark of the night; he looked tired. The bags under his eyes seemed darker, his tear troughs prominent. His eyes were weary and his shoulders slumped.

“What are you looking at?” Kisame asked quietly.

“Apartments,” Itachi replied quietly.

The car went quiet again.

“Itachi,” Kisame eventually murmured.

“Hm?”

“You’re gonna be okay. Everything is gonna be okay, you know that, right?”

Itachi brought his eyes up and stared at him for a long time. Eventually, he looked back down at his phone. “Yeah. That’s part of it, right? Of being healthy? Even if Sasuke leaves me, if you leave me, I’m still supposed to be alright on my own.”

“Hey,” Kisame reached out, grabbing his hand. “Sasuke sure all hell isn’t going to leave you. And I’m not planning on it anytime soon either. Alright?”

Itachi’s fingers twitched once before the curled properly around his. “Yeah. Okay.” He looked out the window as Kisame pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex. “Can you—stay? Can you talk to him with me?”

“Nope.” Kisame shook his head, squeezing Itachi’s hand more tightly. “This is between you two.” He brought Itachi’s hand up to his lips, kissing his knuckles. “You can do this, babe. I know you can.”

Itachi bit his lip. “What if I mess up again? What if I make Sasuke angrier?”

“Just be honest with him. _Truly_ try, and let him know that you are. He’ll understand, I promise.”

Itachi let out a breath. “Alright.”

He didn’t make a move to exit the truck.

Kisame chuckled. “Now’s the part where you go talk to him, Itachi.”

Nervousness flickered across his face. “I really don’t want him to move out. But I know I have no right to ask him to stay.”

 _“Compromise_ ,” Kisame insisted. He leaned over, kissing him on the temple. “I have full faith in you. You call me tonight, before you go to sleep, yeah?”

Itachi nodded slowly, turning into the kiss. “Thanks, for getting me, for helping me.”

Kisame pressed his forehead against Itachi’s hair, closing his eyes. “Anything for you, Itachi.”

Itachi didn’t really know how to respond to that, so he didn’t, opting instead to open the heavy metal door and hop lithely out of the truck. The air was cold, and the contact immediately made him shiver. He walked slowly up the metal staircase, teeth pinching at the inside of his bottom lip, running through his head a million times what he would say. What he could _possibly_ say to make up for years of upsetting Sasuke. He heard the truck tires crunch on the gravelly black top as it pulled away, and he paused at his door to wave Kisame goodbye. He couldn’t see into the windows to know if Kisame responded, but he knew he was looking at him.

He had just inserted the key into the lock and started to turn the knob when the door was yanked open.

Itachi almost yipped as Sasuke grabbed him by the front of the shirt and crushed him against his chest.

“Don’t you ever do that again!” He shouted, and at first Itachi thought that he was angry with him again. But, then, he felt the trembling of his fingers against his back, and of course the slightly-too-tight hug, and his worries dwindled.

“I’m so sorry, Sasuke,” he murmured. Sorry for so many different things. His arms came up to wrap around his brother, a little more gently than Sasuke was squeezing.

“Where _were_ you?” He demanded, pushing Itachi back to look him in the eyes.

“A few cities over, in the mountain reserves.”

“ _What_? Why were you there?”

“I just needed to think. And I did, for a while. Can we talk, now?”

Sasuke nodded, brows furrowed. “Of course.” He hesitated a little. “Are you angry with me?”

Itachi shook his head as he sat down on the couch. “Not at all.”

“You know I didn’t mean any of it, right?” Sasuke popped the knuckles in his thumbs nervously. “I was just angry, I—”

Itachi gently placed a hand over his mouth, lips pulling down at the corners. “Can I go first? I…know that I started all of this—”

Sasuke tried to protest, but Itachi kept his hand firm.

“—so just let me say what I need to, and then you can tell me whatever you want.”

Sasuke nodded eventually, tossing his head so that Itachi would remove his hand.

“I…know I’ve been unfair with you. I shouldn’t have lied to you about—anything, especially not last summer. But the eviction notice came right when you were in dead week, and I was scared that if I dropped the news on you then it would disrupt your studies and you falter on you finals.”

Sasuke glared, but didn’t say anything.

“I don’t want you to be involved in this because I don’t want you to end up like me. Everywhere I am, no matter what I’m doing, I’m constantly thinking about—how am I going to pay for rent this month, how am going to pay for dinner, or for the next loan payment due.” He ran a hand over his hair. “It’s this never ending pit in the bottom of my stomach, and sometimes I can’t eat, or sleep, or think about anything but how broke we are and how I’ll likely be in debt for the rest of my life.” He looked up. “And for you, Sasuke, for you it’s worth it. But why should both of us have to be stuck in that cycle?”

Sasuke opened his mouth, but Itachi knew what he was going to say, and interrupted him before the words could form.

“No offense, Sasuke, but the wages you’d make flipping burgers or refilling water glasses isn’t going to pay off your education. Sure, it would help some, but I can’t convince myself that it would be worth it instead of letting you…just, be a little carefree while you can.”

Sasuke stared at him for a moment. “Are you done?” He asked. His tone wasn’t impolite, or impatient; just questioning.

Itachi nodded, a little hesitant to hear what Sasuke was going to say.

“ _First of all_ , I’m not going to be carefree if you’re running yourself raw working, alright? Second of all, literally all of my friends except Suigestu have jobs, and that’s only because he’d rather leach off of everyone else. And lastly—” Sasuke paused, then, huffing a little. He looked up into the corner of the ceiling; his foot tapped on the ground. “I know…Nii-san, I _know_ that you want the best for me. But—what if you were me? What if you had to watch me take on _everything_ wrong with our lives and destroy myself in the process.” He waited for Itachi to say something, pushing on when he didn’t. “I can’t live in this house just to watch you tear yourself to pieces.”

Itachi flinched a little at his words. He cleared his throat. “Right—about that—” He dug his phone out of his pocket. “I was looking through some apartments that are close to your college—”

“ _Nii-san_ ,” Sasuke stressed, pushing the phone down into Itachi’s lap. “Listen to me.”

Itachi looked up, a little confused.

“I don’t _want_ to move out. I only said I would move out if you don’t take better care of yourself. So…?” He hinted.

Itachi blinked.

Sasuke nearly smiled. “You really don’t know how to do this, huh? Instead of being rash, what if we just—”

“Compromised,” Itachi murmured, eyes dropping back down to the phone in his lap.

“Exactly. I was thinking…I could find a job, one that wouldn’t interfere with school. And as long as my grades didn’t slip, I would work. I could take care of groceries and of shopping and—”

“I’ll still do that.” That was a soft spot. That was _food_. If Itachi couldn’t even keep his brother alive, what could he do?

“Okay,” Sasuke said slowly. “Then, I’ll just give you part of what I make, yeah? And you can manage it. Does that sound fair?”

Itachi nodded, fingers twitching around his phone. “Yeah. We can do that.” His back slumped a little. “Thanks for forgiving me for…acting so crazy.”

Sasuke knew it was pointless to argue with Itachi’s words anymore, so he let it go. “Always. On a different note, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Why…why prostitution?”

Itachi blinked. “Because I would make a lot of money without much expenditure of time of effort on my part.”

Sasuke’s face screwed up a little at how blasé Itachi sounded. “How did you even…I mean, were you just going to stand on street corners in fishnets and hope the feds didn’t catch you?”

Itachi rolled his eyes. “No. I found someone who would get me clients.”

“And you trusted them? What if it was, shit, some sex trafficking thing? You can’t just dive head first into selling your body, someone might try to kill you, or something.”

“That’s always a possibility,” Itachi replied with a shrug. “But yes, you’re correct, I did trust them, so I wasn’t worried.”

“Who was it?” Sasuke demanded. 

“Do you remember, when we lived on the other side of town, the man next door?”

Sasuke’s eyes slowly widened as the gears in his head moved. “ _Yahiko’s_ a _pimp_?” He nearly shouted.

Itachi waved a hand. “Keep your voice down. And yes, he is. Undercover, obviously, so don’t spread that around.”

Sasuke’s hands laid limp in his lap. “How did you, I don’t know, even get a hold of him?”

Itachi sighed. “I was at the grocery store, and something I was buying was mispriced, so I was short by like five dollars at the register. He was in the line next to me and offered to cap off what I was missing.”

“That’s…nice.”

“It _was_ nice. I told him to follow me home so I could repay him, and he suggested something else.”

“ _He_ didn’t try to fuck you, did he?” Sasuke growled.

Itachi glared dully. “No, little brother. He suggested to me that, if I was running low on cash, he could offer me a job.”

“Oh, hey, I see you were short a few bucks, how about you get people to shove stuff up your ass for money!” He mocked.

Itachi waited patiently.                                                       

Sasuke grit his teeth. “I’m sorry, but it’s _weird_.”

“Is there an expected way you make an offer like that to someone?”

He only grumbled.

“Anyways. He told me to meet him another time and we could talk about it.”

“And you didn’t think that was sketchy?”

Itachi’s forehead wrinkled. “Of course I did. But we were already a month’s late on rent, and we only had grace because I pleaded my case to the landlord and he felt pity for us. I was already doing honest work; if I had to dip below the radar to keep you sheltered and fed, I wasn’t going to hesitate.”

Sasuke only barely held back a gripe.

“I met him for lunch, where he explained the reality of the job. He told me that there was certainly a clientele for someone like me. There weren’t a lot of male prostitutes with my ‘look,’ so he assured me I would never run out of work.” Itachi folded one leg underneath himself. “I didn’t accept, but he gave me his card in case I changed my mind. I threw it out as soon as I got home.”

“And that was the end of it?”

“No. Two days later I got the eviction warning in the mail. So I dug through the trash, and he had me come over to his ‘studio.’ He took my picture and put it in a book. I got a text for my first client the next day. I ended up cancelling, however, and forced Yahiko to return to me the picture he took.”

Sasuke scratched the back of his head in a jerky movement, almost fidgety as he glared at the floor. “And what if someone that… _hired_ you was a woman?”

“Then I would have sex with a woman.”

“But you’re _gay!_ ”

 Calmly. “I am aware.”

“Fuck, Nii-san—was this _really_ a better option than letting me take a fucking shift at Taco Bell?”

Itachi sighed, shoulders slumping. “We’ve already gone over this.”

“Right, right. Sorry, I just—promise me that if things get that bad again, you’ll tell me? You’ll let me help?”

Itachi swallowed a little, nodding. His arm drew into his side, and he wouldn’t meet Sasuke’s eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Sasuke asked hesitantly.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

Itachi’s eyes flashed up at him. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.” He moved to get up off the couch—

But Sasuke wasn’t having any of it.

“ _This_ is the type of shit I’m talking about, Itachi.” He grabbed Itachi’s hands, pulling him forward. “Just _tell_ me. Stop pushing me away and just be yourself around me.” He almost sounded desperate.

Itachi stared at him. “I just—I—wish that I could do it.”

“Do what?”

Itachi looked a little lost. “Everything.”

“That’s it, that’s—” Sasuke shifted on the couch, pushing one knee into the cushions so he could lean forward, towards his brother. “That’s _it_ , Itachi, that’s the _core_ of it. You know that you _can’t_ do everything, right?”

“But I have to,” Itachi replied, honesty ringing in his voice. “Everything needs to be done, so I have to do it.”

“You don’t have to do everything alone,” Sasuke tried to convince, lifting up his hands so they could fist themselves into the material of Itachi’s shirt. “You don’t need to do everything yourself. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help.”

Itachi looked off to the side. He cleared the throat a little. “You know I’m not good at that.”

“Yeah, no _shit_.” Sasuke reached out, tugging on the end of Itachi’s ponytail where it flopped over his shoulder. “Will you try, though?”

“Believe it or not, I already am.”

Sasuke laughed. “Then try harder.”

Itachi managed an easy smile, exhaustion pushing him forward and into Sasuke’s shoulder. “I will.” His eyes slipped closed when he felt Sasuke’s arms wind around him. “You know how much I love you, right?” He whispered. “More than everything else in the world combined.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sasuke pressed a cheek to the top of his head. “I don’t think that’s a good thing, always.”

“It’s not,” Itachi assented. “But it’s too late, now. And I wouldn’t change it if I could.”

Sasuke snorted. After a beat, “I love you, too, Nii-san.” He shifted a little, so that they were more horizontal, so that Itachi’s back wouldn’t have to curve.

Itachi was content to stay like that, fitted against his brother’s side as if they were kids again. He felt like a kid again, wished in his heart of hearts that, just for a few moments, he could be a kid again, when life wasn’t so tolling. His mind was drowsy, emotional and physical exhaustion catching up with him and draining his already limited energy. When he closed his eyes, he could almost hear his mother’s humming as she prepared sleep remedy tea in the kitchen, could almost hear the splash of water against the stainless steel sink as she finished the dishes; if he tried hard enough, he could taste the remnants of their dinner—fish and rice, with cabbage and pickled radishes. He could almost feel the soft fur of their childhood dog pressed against his leg where it used to nap on the couch. At this time, his father would probably be reclined on a chair reading a historical book—in kanji, of course. Itachi should be doing his homework, since he already put it off to play with Sasuke before dinner, but the lessons weren’t that difficult, and he could cram it done in the morning.

He fell asleep remembering the comforting feeling of his father carrying his sleeping body to his room and tucking him into bed.

\--

Itachi woke just passed five in the morning. It was a jolted awakening, the type where one flies up, eyes open and heart pumping blood quickly enough to heighten all senses to almost perfect awareness. He was only startled by the subconscious sensation of being in a foreign place.

Itachi blinked around the bright sitting room for a moment, scrounging up his bearings. Sasuke was sprawled out on the couch, shirt mussed where Itachi’s head had been resting. His head was tucked a little awkwardly against the crease of the cushions and the armrest. Itachi shifted into a sitting position, feeling the red marks imprinted on the skin about his hips where his jeans dug in all night. He stood quietly, pulling the blanket off of the back of the couch and silently, carefully placing it over Sasuke’s legs and waist. He quietly flicked off the lights as he made his way towards the hall, so that hopefully Sasuke could continue sleeping.

Itachi pulled his phone out to check the time as he opened the door of his room. He closed it behind him with a soft thud of the wood and click of the handle.

_Hey, did everything go alright? You guys good?_

Itachi frowned at the text, remembering that he had promised to call Kisame after he talked things through with Sasuke.

_Babe?_

It was still too early, Itachi thought, so instead of calling, he sent a text that said, _I fell asleep last night before I had the chance to call you. Everything is fine. Call me when you have a chance and I can tell you._

It was only half an hour later, when Itachi was towel drying his freshly washed hair in the bedroom that his phone started buzzing.

“Hello,” he picked up, voice especially quiet in the stillness of his room.

“Itachi, hey. Everything’s good?”

“Yeah.” Itachi moved to sit on the edge of his bed, setting the damp towel down next to him. “I talked with Sasuke, and we came to a…compromise.” He couldn’t stop the quirk of his lips as he said the word.

Kisame chuckled. “Is that so?”

Itachi tucked a slowly dripping lock of hair behind his ear. “Thank you, Kisame. I really…needed what you did for me last night.”

“Anything you need, Itachi,” Kisame replied. His voice was so assured, so almost—casual about it, as he pledged his loyalties.

His door opened, then. Sasuke’s head poked into the room, sleep mussed hair sticking to his face and spiking out in a couple directions. One side of his face was crinkled up in a grimace, his other eye cracked half open. “Nii-san?”

“Good morning, Sasuke,” Itachi replied warmly, tilting the phone’s speaker away from his mouth. “Did I wake you?”

Sasuke shook his head, wrinkling his nose a couple times as he woke fully. “Who are you talking to?”

“Kisame.”

“Oh.” Sasuke paused. “Okay, well—I’ll let you finish.” He ducked back out of the room.

Itachi smiled. “Sasuke says thank you.”

“Does he now?”

“Yeah.” Itachi flopped down against the mattress. “He may not say it verbatim, but I know he means it in his heart of hearts.”

Kisame chuckled. “I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Itachi staring at his ceiling, Kisame wishing that he could be staring at Itachi. They didn’t need to speak, there wasn’t anything to say, but neither of them wanted to hang up.

“What are you doing later this week?” Kisame murmured.

“Why?” This had become Itachi’s natural response. Of course he knew _why_ ; regardless, he never got tired of hearing Kisame say it.

“Because I want to spend time with you.” Kisame sounded amused. He was such a good sport.

“Well, unfortunately for both of us, I’m pretty busy all week. We can meet for lunch the day after next?”

“I’ll take it,” Kisame answered, a grin apparent in his voice.

“Alright. Well, I should get going.”

Kisame sighed. “I’ll talk to you tonight.”

Itachi nodded to himself. “Bye.”

He stayed on his bed for a few minutes, just to think. To think about how much Kisame did for him—he wanted to have some way to _repay_ him. He knew, of course, that Kisame didn’t expect anything out of it. But that’s what made it so special to Itachi.

_Kisame’s so good for me._

More and more the thought would slip into his head and—it was so _true_.

He hoped that he was good for Kisame, too.

\--

“Oh, so now you answer my calls?” Sasuke snorted, eyes critically scanning his essay.

“You damn well know I don’t answer my phone before ten when I don’t have morning classes.” Naruto yawned. “How’d everything turn out last night? Is Itachi okay?”

Sasuke glared down at the desk. “Yeah. I think everything’s gonna be fine.”

“Still can’t believe you guys fought so hard.” Sasuke heard rustling on the other end of the line. “It’s not like Itachi to get in an argument.”

Sasuke bounced a pen on the desk. “We had it a long time coming.” He let his head tilt back, looking at the ceiling. “The good news is I’m on the hunt for a job. Does Hinata still know if The Atlas has an opening?”

“Oh, yeah, let me text her!” Naruto said brightly. “Last I heard they had gotten some applicants, but I’m sure that she can pull some strings.”

Sasuke grunted. “See that she does.”

“Well, if you’re gonna be a dick about it,” Naruto grumbled. “Oh, I forgot to tell you! I ran into Kisame yesterday. He’s doing well.”

“Is he?” Sasuke replied absently, editing the diction of a paragraph to improve the flow.

“Yeah.” Naruto sounded satisfied. “He seems happier than he used to be. Not that he ever seemed _unhappy_. You can just tell, ya know? And he seems happy.”

“I wonder why,” Sasuke murmured, eyes unfocusing on his laptop screen for a moment before snapping back in focus.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Itachi.” Sasuke rolled his eyes. “Idiot.”

“Bastard! _Excuse_ me for not knowing the innermost details of their relationship. It’s not like you tell me!”

“It’s not like Itachi tells me, either.”

Naruto hummed. “Yeah? Then how do you know that’s why he’s so happy, huh?”

“Because, it’s Itachi. Who wouldn’t be happy dating Itachi? Kisame’s probably just excited because he managed to convince someone so far out of his league to date him.”

Naruto laughed a little. “The way you talk about Itachi, man. You’re not gonna leave me for him, are you?”

“I might,” Sasuke sniffed.

Naruto laughed even more loudly.  “I am surprised, though. I thought you were going to chase Kisame off _weeks_ ago. How long have they been dating, now?”

“Over four months.” Sasuke leaned back in his chair, crossing his free arm over his stomach. “You know that I trust Kisame, if only because Suigetsu put in a good word. And…Itachi’s happy. Itachi’s _happy_. _Glowing_ , almost. It’s intolerable.”

“What?! _Intolerable_? You should be happy! Your brother’s happy!”

“‘In-love’ Itachi acts recklessly and stupidly,” Sasuke justified. “But I am,” he added, a little more quietly. “I am.”

“Ooh,” Naruto sing-songed. “So you approve of Itachi’s boyfriend. I never thought I’d see the day,” he sighed dramatically.

Sasuke glowered. “I do not _approve_.”

“You absolutely do, you prickly bitch. You won’t admit it because you won’t know what to do with yourself when you can’t complain about Itachi being at the disposal of the world anymore.”

Sasuke growled. “Kisame’s gotta have to be a fucking magician to keep Itachi from fucking himself over. That’s a fulltime job.”

“Yeah, but—for Itachi to let you get a job? For him to work with you and compromise with you? C’mon, Sas, you know that’s big for him. You think he did that all on his own?”

“Itachi’s been trying to work on himself for a while,” Sasuke defended.

“I know. But you think that Kisame hasn’t helped?” Naruto whistled. “It’s hard to remedy parts of yourself without help. I mean, just look at you! If it wasn’t for me, you still wouldn’t touch cup ramen!”

“That was never a part of myself I wanted to fix, moron.”

Naruto groaned. “I know! Imagine if you had never found me!”

Sasuke’s lips twitched despite himself. “You’re obnoxious.”

“You adore me,” Naruto countered, clearly smiling.

After a long pause, “yeah.”

“Wah, what was that?” Naruto cried dramatically. “Say it again, Sasuke!”

Sasuke smirked. “No.”

“You adore me!” Naruto cooed, teasing.

“I’m hanging up, now.”

“Jeez, _fine_. You’re so cold,” he sniffed.

“I really do need to go; this essay is due by Sunday.”

“Ah, yeah! How’s that going?”

Sasuke grumbled a little darkly. “Well.” It _had_ to go well. He was going to win that damn scholarship money, and then use their normal savings to send Itachi on a vacation. He was going to pay his brother back for all the sacrifices he made. And then he was going to graduate, get a decent job, and be the one to put _Itachi_ through university. Because he deserved it. Because Itachi deserved that, and the whole world, and a little extra after that. You couldn’t convince Sasuke otherwise.

“Do you think you’re gonna win?”

“I don’t want to jinx it.” Sasuke stared dully at the keyboard. “We need it so bad, though, Naruto. I’m sure everyone else entering this competition does, too, but—Naruto, we need it _so bad_.”

“I know,” Naruto murmured quietly. Brightly, he suggested, “Before you submit it, send it to Shikamaru, I’ll force him to read over it for you. And Hinata’s an English major, I can give it to her, too!”

Sasuke grunted his approval. “The good news is, I’m sure I have tragedy on my side. Unless the other applicants are talking about their parents being murdered and their brother going to prison, too.”

Naruto laughed, just barely. “I’m sure you’re the only one.”

Sasuke let out a gusty sigh. “Okay, I really have to focus. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alright. Don’t _adore_ me too much while you’re working. I wouldn’t want to distract you.”

Sasuke chuckled. “Shut up.” He hung up and tossed his phone on to the other side of the desk, pulling his laptop closer to the edge.

He was revising the second page when he thought that, maybe, if Kisame would pay his own way, of course, Sasuke would send him on the vacation with Itachi, too.

\--

Itachi rolled over in bed, squinting his eyes into the darkness.

He heard buzzing. Loud, disruptive buzzing.

Please, please don’t let that be his alarm clock. Don’t let it be time to wake up. He was still so _tired_.

A blurry, sleep glazed glance at the clock showed that it was still quite early—far too early to be waking up. And he sank back into bed, but—his nightstand was still buzzing.

He sloppily grabbed the phone off of the table, eyes stabbed by the bright light emitted from the screen. He propped himself up on his elbows, the comforter slipping off of his shoulders.

“Hello?” He answered, voice groggy.

“Hey.” The voice on the other line was heavy.

“Kisame,” Itachi murmured, his instant reaction to be happiness at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice, no matter what the hour was. “Why are you calling me so early?”

“Sorry. Sorry, I just—”

“Are you alright?” Itachi interrupted, trying to squeeze the sleep out of his eyes. “You don’t sound well.”

Kisame let out a little breath. “Fuck, I know your sleeping. I just—can’t. I…I wanted to hear you voice so bad right now.”

Itachi felt his lips tip a little, his arms giving as he collapsed back into the soft pillow. “Mm,” he hummed. “Well, I’m here now. This is my voice. I am Itachi, hear me roar.” He snorted to himself.

Kisame made a little noise on the other end, a breathy sound. It might have been a laugh, but Itachi wasn’t sure.

“Kisa,” he said, words mashing against his lips. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing. Nothing, I just can’t sleep.”

“Then cm’over ‘ere.” He shifted deeper into the comforter. “Come sleep with me. It’s all warm and soft. I bet I could make you sleep.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he whispered.

Itachi slowly opened his eyes again, staring into the dark room. “You really don’t sound well.”

Kisame didn’t say anything.

“What can I do?”

“…do you want to go get breakfast?”

“Right now? Who serves breakfast at…3:42 in the morning?”

“Ihop is open.”                                               

Itachi blinked a few times. After a short moment of thinking, he said, “Sure. Why not.”

“Okay, great—you’re sure, though? I Know you have work and—”

“Shh,” Itachi shushed. “I’m sure. It sounds fun.” In complete honesty, what sounded the most fun was staying in his warm, cozy bed and sleeping for many more hours. But there really was something up with Kisame’s voice, and Itachi was worried. “You’ll have to give me a ride, though,” he added as an afterthought.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I’ll come get you, in, like, a few minutes, okay?”

Itachi nodded, and then realized that Kisame wouldn’t be able to see it. “Okay. Drive carefully. There’s a lot of unpredictable drivers. Drunk drivers. You better get here in one piece.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise. Give me just a couple minutes and I’ll be there.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Itachi hummed. He lazed in bed for a couple more minutes. Sleep started to tug on his eyelids, though, and he knew he had to get out of bed soon before he was sucked back under entirely. He pushed his legs over the sides, flexing his toes—his feet always ached when he woke up, he wasn’t sure why. He immediately shivered in the silent room, cold air wrapping around him.

He managed to get into an upright position, immediately heading to his drawer to change. He traded his sweats for a pair of comfortable jeans. He was already wearing Kisame’s hoodie—well, one of them, he was building a collection—and he decide to keep it on.

It even had the off chance of cheering Kisame up.

Itachi quietly left his room, moving silently down the hall to the kitchen. He didn’t know what time he would be back, so he peeled a sticky note off the pink stack by the answering machine, uncapping a pen with his teeth.

 _Sasuke_  
I stepped out early this morning to help Kisame with something. I can explain to you when I get back. If I’m not home by the time you wake up, you can reach me on my cellphone.   
Love you.  
Itachi

He stuck it to the fridge, where its bright color would contrast against the white door.

He slipped his feet into his shoes, if for no reason than because his feet were getting cold against the hardwood floor. He sat cross legged on the couch, blanked wrapped around his shoulders because he was still so _sleep_ y. His phone and his keys were in the front pocket of the hoodie, and he fiddled with them as he waited.

It wasn’t too much longer before he got a text.

_I’m like halfway up the stairs. I don’t know which room is yours._

Itachi hopped up immediately and headed to the door. The cold that greeted him when he opened it was less than pleasant; he locked the door quickly and headed down the stairs to meet Kisame.

Kisame was standing on a random step, looking unsure.

Itachi thought that, despite his notable height and muscle mass, he seemed…small.

It made him frown.

“Good morning,” he said quietly as he approached him. He leaned up on his toes for a kiss which Kisame didn’t really reciprocate.

That deepened his frown.

He was just about to say something when Kisame caught him up in his big arms, pulling him against his chest. It was a little startling, both in suddenness and intensity. Itachi felt Kisame’s face press itself into his hair, shaky breaths reaching his scalp. His hands squeezed fistfuls of Kisame’s sweatshirt.

“Kisame?” He asked quietly.

Kisame released him, then, just as abruptly before, and it left Itachi blinking at him in confusion. He looked at him for a few moments. “Nice outfit,” he said, voice gruff, as he looked at the hoodie.

Itachi knew it was supposed to be a joke, but his voice held no humor, and his lips didn’t smile.

Where was that grin? The grin that was so hard to get out of his thoughts, his dreams?

Itachi didn’t know what had put a damper on it, but he knew already that he didn’t much like it.

“Thanks,” he responded lightly, trying to joke himself. “I saw this really attractive guy wearing it, and I thought I could try to pull it off, too.”

Kisame didn’t react at all, though. Where normally he would grin, where normally his eyes would light up and crinkle along the edges, his brows were set down, and his mouth was a hard line.

Itachi didn’t know what to say after that.

“Well, no point standing out here talking. Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” he replied simply, looking up under his lashes a few times. Kisame was acting odd, incredibly odd. He was worried.

The car ride was silent. The roads were empty, almost, a car appearing only every street or so until they hit the freeway. All the shops were dark, no one was walking along the sidewalks. Even the traffic lights seemed to change _quietly_. Itachi could hear every noise in the car—the clunk of Kisame pressing against the gas pedal, the seemingly loud clicking of the blinker. The gentle whir of the heater practically filled his head.

Kisame was usually the one to prompt the conversation. He figured out what to say when Itachi’s rickety social skills failed him. He could string together thoughts when Itachi didn’t know how to contribute, and bridge topics when he was content to only listen and hum.

So when _this_ happened, when Itachi could feel that something was wrong, and Kisame wasn’t offering it up he—he didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t a skill among his diversified collection.

But Kisame needed something. Kisame’s hands kept tightening and fidgeting on the leather steering wheel, making a soft noise sometimes that snapped Itachi’s eyes over. Itachi knew that Kisame _needed_ him to be there for him, and he was suddenly overwhelmed because—he didn’t know how. He wasn’t good at this.

But _dammit_ if he wasn’t going to try.

“One of my students is studying ancient Greek tragedies,” Itachi blurted into the dark car as they sped down the freeway. “Have you ever read Sophocles?”

Kisame shook his head, eyes trained on the road in front of him.

“Oh. Well. He was a big deal back in his time. He wrote over 240 plays, but only 7 of them were ever discovered. Anyways, his most famous, and kind of the pillar of all great Greek tragedies, was a long, complicated trilogy about a man named Oedipus. Have you heard of it?”

Kisame shook his head again.

Itachi cleared his throat a little. “Oedipus Rex, which means Oedipus the King, is actually my favorite Greek play. It starts in the ancient city of Thebes, which is currently being cursed with disease. The people gather at their king’s feet and beg him to somehow free them of the plague by appeasing Apollo. Oedipus loves his people, so he agrees. Their old king, Laius, was murdered while he was traveling to another city, and the murderer is currently living in Thebes. Apollo is cursing the city, and won’t forgive them until they cast out the culprit. So, Oedipus calls forward Tiresias, an oracle, and asks him to reveal the murderer’s identity. Tiresias refuses to tell him and instead tries to convince him to stop searching, or else he’ll end up in pain. Oedipus demands to know who is the cause of the plague once more, and Tiresias confesses that it is Oedipus himself. He’s angrily dismissed.” Itachi looked over from the corner of his eye; Kisame hadn’t changed much, but his hands were more relaxed, and he seemed to be listening.

“Later, a servant comes with the news that Oedipus’ father, Polybus, has died. Opedipus is relieved, however, instead of sad. The servant asks why, and it is revealed that a prophecy was given to Oedipus when he was born that someday he would murder his father and marry his mother. Now that his father has died, Oedipus is convinced he evaded the prophecy. _Then_ the servant tells him that he was adopted, and Polybus isn’t his true father. He was, instead, found as a baby on mount Cithaeron, and he was given to the King and Queen of Corinth.”

Kisame gave him a look as he exited the freeway, merging onto an empty street.

“Oedipus reports this to his wife, who was married to Laius as queen before Oedipus took over the city, and she becomes overwhelmed and begs him to stop seeking the truth. Oedipus is determined, though, and disregards her. As he looks into the murder or Laius, he recalls that he killed a man in the same area on his way to Thebes. Now he’s worried, because things are starting to add up. Then Jocasta tells him that she too received a bad prophecy for her newborn and had a servant kill him. Oedipus summons the servant, who confesses that he couldn’t kill the baby, so he left it in the mountains, where a shepherd rescued it. _Then_ , they call in the servant who was with Laius when he died.”

“Why didn’t they do that first?” Kisame grunted.

Itachi smiled a little. “Because, then where would the drama come from? Anyways, the guy recognizes Oedipus as the murderer, and it turns out that he did indeed fulfill the prophecy. Jocasta realizes that she had children with her own son and hangs herself in her room. Oedipus finds her and is horribly upset. So that he won’t have to look at his parents in the underworld, he pulls the golden pins out of her dress and turns his eyes into cottage cheese.”

Kisame raised an eyebrow as he pulled into a space in the IHOP parking lot.

“Then he’s exiled.”

Kisame he chuckled a little, shaking his head as he cranked the emergency brake back. “Should I be worried that this is your favorite play?”

“Not favorite play,” Itachi corrected, all but beaming at Kisame’s smile, “favorite Greek Tragedy.”

Kisame looked over at him, softening visibly. His eyes filled in a little, looked a little less hollow, and he reached a hand out to brush Itachi’s cheek. “Of course, how could I make such a mistake. Geez, I’m dating the biggest dork I’ve ever met.”

Itachi let his head rest against Kisame’s palm. “Correct. I hope you know, I don’t take that as an insult.”

“And I didn’t mean it as one.”

There weren’t a whole lot of people in the restaurant, for obvious reasons. He supposed it was fortunate, since Kisame wasn’t in the most social mood, and Itachi wanted to be able to have alone time to try to pry him open.

There were two teenagers sitting off to the side. One had been crying, eyes puffy, freckled cheeks streaked with the barest hints of mascara. Her hair was up in a bun, messy and straggling from sleep. The girl in front of her hand one hand stretched to grip onto her arm, speaking fierce assurances. On the flip side, there was a group of four teenage boys huddled around a secluded table by the window. Their eyes were tinged red for a completely different reason.

They were stoned out of their minds, that is.

At another table there was an exhausted woman in hospital scrubs, a scruffy looking man nursing a single coffee at the bar.

Itachi wondered how the two of them added to the picture as he tentatively reached out to grab on to Kisame’s thick forearm.

The young man who greeted them didn’t say a word, looking up from behind the cash register. He grabbed two menus off the counter and led them into the restaurant. He put them at a booth at the empty side of the room—Itachi guessed that he worked the night shift enough to know that any costumer who showed up just shy of four in the morning wasn’t there to make friends.

“What do you want to eat?” Itachi asked, scooting over on the booth.

“Uh.” Kisame blinked down at the laminated picture of a pancake. “I don’t know. Whatever you want.”

“You were the one that called me out here.”

The muscles bound across Kisame’s arms tensed, and he suddenly wouldn’t meet Itachi’s eyes. “Right. You can leave, if you need.”

“No, no that’s not—” Itachi pressed his lips together, looking down at the table. Okay, okay. He could do this. He opened the menu, looking over it silently until the waiter reappeared.

“What can I get you?” He asked tiredly, not even bothering to pull the pen and pad out of his apron. He truly looked miserable.

Itachi sympathized.

“We’ll take a stack of buttermilk pancakes, six strips of bacon, a plate of hash-browns, and two eggs.”

“Anything else?”

Itachi shook his head. “Some water would be nice.”

As the waiter disappeared into the kitchen, Kisame asked, “Are you planning on eating all of that?”

“Of course not. You’ll be eating most of it.”

“Is that so?” Kisame’s voice was a little dry.

Itachi rested his chin on his palm. “Tell me, did you eat dinner last night? What about lunch?”

Kisame stared at him expressionlessly.

“I’d bet my next paycheck you haven’t eaten in over twenty four hours. That’s not good for you, Kisame.”

He gave, shoulders slumping, a sigh leaving his lips. “I know. I haven’t been hungry.”

Itachi stared at him, trying to will Kisame too look up, but his eyes stayed locked on the dull white table.

Itachi cleared his throat, flashing the waiter a small smile as he slid two plastic cups of water in front of them. “So, would you like to hear about Antigone or Hamlet next?” He asked.

Kisame snorted a little, one corner of his lip twitching. “Hamlet, now that sounds familiar. I think I read it in high school.”

“Oh?” Itachi inquired playfully, leaning forward. “Think you can keep up with me?”

Kisame’s smile widened into what could almost pass as the beginnings to a grin. “Not a chance. I didn’t major in Greek literature, like you did, evidently.”

“Clearly not; Hamlet is _Shakespeare_.”

“Ah, shit. I should have known. Did I offend you?”

“Only horribly.” Itachi spun his water cup.

Kisame cracked another smile, but his eyes were unfocused on the table. He tapped his finger a couple of times, and then in a voice that was part coarse and part shaky, said, “Thank you.”

Itachi’s face was open and honest. “For what?”

Kisame still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “For…everything. For coming out here in the middle of the night. For trying to distract me. For keeping me company. For going to that damn bar so that I could meet you—” He broke off, running a rough hand over his hair and then dragging it down his face.

“Kisame,” Itachi murmured, pushing a hand across the table.

“You—Itachi, you—” he tilted his head back, looking at the ceiling. He didn’t know what to say, wasn’t used to spilling his guts all out in the open. “Every night, when I fall asleep, I’m thinking of you. And when I wake up, my first thought is _you_.”

Itachi didn’t know what to say, staring at him with wide eyes.

“You’re important to me,” Kisame all but blurted. “I want you in my life right now.” He swallowed. “ _Need._ ”

Itachi’s eyebrows drew in. “You’re important to me too, Kisame.” He pushed his hand forward just a little, but Kisame didn’t meet it.

The waiter had spectacular timing, appearing at the edge of their table and setting the white plates down in front of them. The pad of butter melted softly over the fluffy pancakes and the bacon glistened with leftover grease.

“Is that all?”                                                                          

“Yes, thank you,” Itachi replied, eyes not leaving Kisame’s face. He stared at him for a few more seconds before pulling his hand back. After pressing his lips together in thought, he grabbed a strip of bacon, warm to the touch, and held it out towards Kisame. “Open,” he commanded.

Kisame raised his eyebrows.

“ _Open_.”

With a little quirk of his lip, Kisame leaned forward to take a bite.

Itachi wrinkled his nose and laughed when Kisame licked the grease off of his thumb. He used his fork and knife to cut a piece off of the pancake stack, drizzling some old fashioned syrup onto it. When he looked up to offer it to Kisame, however, he was greeted with heavy eyes.

“Two mornings ago,” Kisame started, “my aunt backed out of her driveway to go to work. And she didn’t know it, but her two year old daughter was behind her in the drive way and—” He didn’t finish, tapping his finger against the condensation sticking to his cup.

“Oh,” Itachi said, quietly. “Kisame—”

“And then, last night, she swallowed, like, two bottles of pills. Couldn’t live with herself if she killed her own kid, I guess. She’s in critical condition in the hospital. She didn’t die, but her organs started failing. If she makes it through tonight the doctors said she would be okay. But they don’t know if she will.”

Itachi sat against the back of the seat, a little shocked. He didn’t know what to say, there wasn’t anything you could say, really.

“I know that everyone thinks that their little cousin is the cutest but—god, Talia was such a sweet little thing. I’d get sent pictures and video of her, and I’d Skype her on holidays and—I kept telling myself, _swearing_ to myself that I’d get home and see her. I have—I have gifts for her in my home, that I was going to give to her. For two years I put it off, and now…that’s it, I mean, she’s dead. And my aunt _might_ be dead.” He sighed. “My family’s freaking out. Obviously, I guess.” His eyes darted up to meet Itachi’s. “My aunt almost killed herself. My uncle almost lost his baby and his wife in less than forty eight hours. How…how does anyone recover from that?” He shook his head, leaning back against the seat. “How did you do it, when you lost your parents? Or your cousin? Fuck, how did you survive that?”

Itachi’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks. “It’s different for everyone, of course. I just clung to what I still had, which was Sasuke.” Itachi didn’t want to delve into the gory details that were his parents’ murders, because he didn’t want to make this about him. “When my parents passed away, I just thought about what I could do to make them proud. Father would always tell me to take care of Sasuke when he and my mom left on business trips or vacations, so I threw myself into that tenfold.” He let out a little sigh, pulling one leg up to fold on the bench next to him. “Shisui and I wrote each other a lot. I sent him a letter, once, and just…never got a response. It was a couple of weeks where I just assumed he was busy, until I decided to drop some extra change to call him. He didn’t pick up for days and….” Itachi cleared his throat. “I stalked a relative’s Facebook and found a picture of a funeral. I didn’t know what to do, so I just…kept writing him letters. I never sent them; they’re sitting in a shoebox in my closet. I still think about him, a lot—about the jokes I know he would make, about his disposition on life. He gave me so much encouragement, so much….” He glanced up at Kisame. “I regret not seeing him, too. Neither of us could afford such long distance plane tickets at the time, but now, thinking about it, I wish I had.”

Kisame lifted his hand up, finally, sliding it against the table. Itachi’s fingers met his halfway, pushing in between.

“It sucks,” Kisame said, gravel in his voice. His head knocked back against the top of the booth.

“Yeah,” Itachi replied quietly. “That sums it up.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Kisame continued, brows scrunching together.

“You don’t need to right away. Just take things a step at a time and you’ll start to learn how to cope.” There was a soft moment of silence as Kisame stared at the ceiling. “It’s good to stay close to people, though. The rest of your family, and Mangetsu and Suigetsu. And…I’m here, too, if you need me.”

Kisame’s fingers twitched in between his.

“Is there something else?” Itachi asked softly.

“I might go home. To Upolu.”

“Oh.” Itachi’s eyebrows raised up a bit in surprise. “I see. For how long?”

“Shit, I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I might not. I just—don’t know.”

“That’s okay.” He squeezed his fingers. “Do whatever is best for you and your family.”

“Okay. Yeah, yeah.” Itachi could hear his leg tapping against the floor. “I don’t know if I’m going to go for a little while, or a long time.”

“Okay,” Itachi said slowly, trying not to show his confusion.

“But, if I leave for a long time, I don’t know what you’ll think of that.”

Itachi tilted his head in surprise. “What I would think of that?”

“Yeah. I know what long-distance relationships usually aren’t the smoothest, and I don’t want to—”

“Kisame,” Itachi interrupted. “You’re worried that I’ll break up with you?”

Kisame just shrugged.

“Kisame, I’m not—of _course_ I wouldn’t do that. Kisame,” he leaned forwards a little bit. “You shouldn’t be worrying about something like that, not during such a time as this.”

“What if I’m gone for—a year? Then what?”

Itachi’s gaze didn’t falter. “Then I would miss you a lot. If it comes to a situation that drastic, we would just deal with it then.” He grabbed the fork off the plate, sliver of pancake still stuck at the end. “Now—eat,” he demanded, holding the fork out for him. “I’m not letting all this food go to waste.”

Kisame stared at him for a few seconds before he seemed to relax all the way, accepting the pancake.

They ate in silence for ten or so minutes. Itachi kept scooting food towards Kisame, trying to get him to eat more. Kisame was in a visibly brighter mood by the time Itachi convinced him to take the last strip of bacon. He was smiling again, laughing at Itachi’s lame excuses for jokes. He looked exhausted, though, which made sense if he hadn’t slept since the night before.

Kisame insisted on paying the bill; Itachi stubbornly slapped down a few bills for the tip money. Kisame took his hand as they exited the building, squeezing tightly. It was just passed 4:30; the sky was still dark, though the barest hints of dawn seemed to loom on the horizon, a faint, ghost like glow that was almost imperceptible.

“Hold on,” Itachi said, an idea popping into his mind as Kisame unlocked his truck. He opened the backseat, retrieving the blanket. He moved around to the back, jumping up into the bed of the truck and spreading the blanket out. He sat down on one edge and patted the spot next to him.

Kisame raised an eyebrow. “I don’t follow.”

“Come sit; it’s a beautiful night, and while we’re up we might as well watch the stars.”

Kisame conceded easily enough. He settled down next to Itachi, who nudged himself under Kisame’s arm, pillowing his head against his broad chest.  Kisame blinked up at the stars as they lay there, relishing in the feeling of Itachi’s fingers tapping against his chest.

“You tap your fingers a lot,” he commented. “In patterns, in rhythms.”

A ghost of a smile crossed Itachi’s lips. “I attended piano lessons for many years when I was a child,” he explained. “I still remember a lot of the more basic ones.” He pressed a new sequence against Kisame’ shirt. “Sonatina.”

Kisame tilted his head. “You’re like a treasure chest,” he grunted. “Everyday there’s something else I discover about you that’s amazing.”

“Basic piano skills from years ago are hardly amazing.”

Kisame shook his head.

“Okay, well—you’re like.” He thought for a moment. “You’re like a good book.”

Kisame raised an eyebrow, looking over at his partner. “A book? How boring.”

“Watch your mouth, or I’ll make you clean it out with soap,” Itachi teased. He brought one hand up to trace the gill-like tattoos on Kisame’s cheeks. “You’re like a book because, though you may come across one way, you aren’t so blatant. Even if you pretend to wear your heart on your sleeve, you don’t, really. There’s a hundred different ways to analyze you, each more interesting than the last.”

Kisame blinked. “Oh.”

Itachi seemed pleased with himself.

“I guess it was a bad idea to start psychoanalyzing with you, huh?”

“I’m hardly doing such thing.”

Kisame rolled over on his side so he could look at Itachi’s face. “Will you tell me one?” he asked, his voice quiet in the dark night.

“One what?”

“One of the hundred ways to analyze me.”

Itachi hummed. “You wear false confidence.”

“What?”

“You like to act confident and sure of yourself. You aren’t _unconfident_ , and you certainly aren’t self-conscious, but you like people to think that you’re a lot more self-assured than you really are.”

There was silence for a bit.

“How did you know that?” Kisame whispered, eyes unreadable.

“If you were as confident as you say you are, you wouldn’t have been nervous tonight. You were scared that I would break up with you if you left of Upolu; someone with a lot of confidence would be sure of my answer already.”

Kisame reached forward, sliding his hand against Itachi’s cheek, and then wrapping it around the back of his head. His long fingers buried in Itachi’s silky black hair as he tilted his head to kiss him.

“So, am I correct?” Itachi asked when Kisame pulled away.

Kisame didn’t answer right away. “I learned how to act confident a while ago. Kids in my high school class were fuckers—made fun of my height, my tattoos, my mixed blood. Girls called me ugly—”

Itachi’s eyebrows climbed his forehead when he heard that because—come on, that was just ridiculous.

“—and at one point, some jack off started the nickname Quasimodo.”

Itachi frowned. “It sounds like you had terrible classmates.”

Kisame shrugged. “Could be worse. I figured out though, that when you act confident? People start thinking that you are. It doesn’t make sense, I don’t think, but it worked.” He chuckled. “Act like you’re proud of how you look? People agree with you all the sudden.” He studied Itachi’s face with a sly little grin. “Act like you’re hot stuff? The cute guy at the bar might just come home with you.”

“That’s not exactly how it happened.” Itachi rolled his eyes.

Kisame winked.

Itachi sat up a little, pushing Kisame on his back so he could lay part way across his chest, hands settling on his shoulders. He kissed him again.

“What about you?” Kisame asked, one hand fitting itself against the curve of Itachi’s waist.

“What about me?”

“Did people make fun of you in high school?”

“I was homeschooled,” Itachi answered immediately. Kisame was about to respond, but then Itachi’s face screwed up a little, eyes closing. “No, I wasn’t. That was a lie.” He looked a little sheepish as he met Kisame’s eyes. “Sorry, that’s just the excuse that I tell everyone.”

Kisame’s face was neutral. “It’s alright. It must have been really bad for you, then, huh?”

“Kind of, if you want to look at it like that. It’s just—complicated, and I don’t really want to get into it right now.”

Kisame waved a hand. “That’s fine, that’s fine.”

Itachi settled his head back down on his chest. “Are you feeling better?”

Kisame squeezed him. “Yeah, I am. Thanks.”

“I know that I’m not the most stable person, but you know that I’m here for you, right?” Itachi’s hand curled against Kisame’s shirt. “You do _so much_ for me; I want to help you, too, okay?”

Kisame nodded. “You do, Itachi. Even if you don’t see it, I promise you do.”

Itachi sighed contentedly. Kisame’s hand began rubbing Itachi’s back steadily, relaxing the muscles there with each gentle push. There was a little bit of white noise from the freeway down a couple street, more people entering the roads as it got closer to early morning commute times.

“Can I tell you something, Itachi?”

“Of course.”

Kisame stilled his hand. “I don’t have a lot of close friends. I have coworkers, and casual friends, but—I don’t know, I don’t see the point in getting close to someone if it isn’t going to work out in the long run. Most friendships die, so why put in all the effort when it just ends up being pointless?”

Itachi stared at the blanket peeking out from underneath Kisame’s back.

“You know what’s funny, though?” His voice was uncharacteristically soft. “I’ve never thought about it that way with you. Not with you. I have no idea what’s going to become of this, but…it doesn’t bother me. I still want to be with you every second of the fucking day.”

Itachi buried his face into Kisame’s chest.

“Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be. Maybe it’s just about the time you can enjoy with someone, regardless of how long.”

“I think so,” Itachi agreed quietly.

“Hm.” Kisame wrapped his other arm around Itachi’s waste.

Itachi was content to lay there for a while longer. He was conflicted, in his heart. Part of it ached for Kisame’s loss, but at the same time, he felt all warm inside. They were even closer, and he’s finally _done_ something for Kisame. They felt more even.

“You’re going to fall asleep,” Kisame grunted.

“Hmm?”

He chuckled. “Alright. Get up, let me get you home.”

“It’s fine here,” he said with a little yawn, fingers trying to grip Kisame’s arm. Let’s just stay here.”

“In the back of my truck at the crack of dawn?”

Itachi shrugged sleepily.

Kisame shifted a little, and then scooped Itachi—who made only the barest noise of surprise—up in his arms. He hopped out of the bed with ease, walking to the passenger door.

“I can walk, you know,” Itachi said curtly, glaring from under his lashes.

Kisame laughed, setting him down. “Are you sure? You’re acting awfully tired.”

“Why aren’t you?” Itachi asked as he opened the door. “You’ve certainly been awake longer than me, and more emotionally taxed.”

Kisame shrugged, climbing into the truck and closing the door roughly behind him. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve hit that point where I’m so tired, I don’t really feel it anymore. You know what I mean?”

“Too well.”

As soon as he got out of the parking lot and onto the main street, Kisame reached his hand out for Itachi to hold. Itachi gladly accepted, leaning his head against Kisame’s knuckles. He nearly fell asleep on the ride back to his apartment. He departed with a sleep kiss to Kisame’s cheek, murmured assurances exchanged to talk soon. Kisame promised to call as soon as he made up his mind about going home.

It was five, the light growing in the sky when Itachi pushed his door open. Sasuke was awake, which surprised him, sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal.

“Hey,” Itachi started, toeing his shoes off. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Can’t sleep,” Sasuke muttered, spooning up milk and then pouring it back into the bowl. “I wake up in the middle of the night, panicked about my essay. Then I’m fucked to go back to sleep.”

Itachi chuckled. “You’ve already sent that, Sasuke. There’s no good to be done now from fretting over it.”

“I know.”

Itachi sighed, leaning against the wall. “Well, either way, I know you did your best. That’s what’s important.”

“I’d say the free year of college tuition is what’s important,” he grumbled, stabbing a cheerio with his spoon. “What did Kisame need?”

Itachi hummed, closing his eyes. “He lost some family in the past two days.”

Sasuke blinked. “Ah, shit. He okay?”

Itachi nodded. “Yeah, he’s going to be fine. Just needed to talk himself through it.” He broke off with a big yawn, one hand coming up to cover his face.

Sasuke snorted. “You’re exhausted. Come on.” He dragged Itachi into the hallway by his hand, pushing him into his room. Itachi tugged his jeans off and collapsed in bed, burying his face into the extra fabric of the sweatshirt. Sasuke removed his phone from the pocket, setting an alarm to go off half an hour before Itachi’s first appointment.

“Sleep well,” he murmured as he closed the door behind him.

Itachi did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Itachi's gotta learn to not be a little shit. That's gonna be hard. 
> 
> So, just because I want to talk about my precious shark real quick. In the manga, after Kisame killed his own comrades he kinda developed an existentialism complex, yeah? It was all "well shit what am i and where am i going if everything is a lie" kinda vibe. Because killing one's own comrade was a paradox to him, because you couldn't claim to be someone's 'comrade' if you end their life. So what did that make him? Kisame wanted to know the truth about _himself_ because after he killed his teammates, he didn't feel 'truthful,' right? He settled that he was a just a weapon. And that made his life feel even more pointless. So he had to find the truth. 
> 
> Additionally, he didn't see the point of making friends with other ninja when he knew eventually he would have to kill them. And what kicks me in the heart is yeah, he was allied with Itachi, but in essence they were still just two criminals working together. You don't join the Akatsuki to make friends, so why the hell did he ever bother caring about Itachi? Itachi killed his own comrades, as well. So by Kisame's own line of thinking, he wasn't 'truthful' either. If Itachi had betrayed the Akatuski (rather, if it had been found at that he was betraying the Akatsuki the whole time) would Kisame not have been the one to kill him? So, then, why the _heck_ would Kisame ever care about him? Itachi should mean very little to him. Kisame came to the realization that ninja were just weapons, that ninja were disposable, like the kiri nin he killed. He was disposable. Itachi _should_ have been disposable to him, just like literally everyone else. But he _wasn't oh my god do you guys see why I'm freaking out._ Itachi was the number one most important thing to him by the time he died. He was the literal opposite of "disposable" to Kisame, he was a person that he cared for. It was because of _Itachi_ that he found the truth when he died, that he wasn't just a tool, that he was a _human >_ and that he had good in him. And Itachi was the first person that didn't think of him as a weapon, or as a shark or whatever the fuck ("We are humans, not fish") and. _oh my god._
> 
>  
> 
> Guys I just want you to understand how momentous Itachi was in Kisame's life. Itachi was Kisame's _truth_.
> 
> cries silently onto my laptop
> 
> Well. Anyways. I have million more Kisame details I could scream about. The reason I vomited all that nonsensical shit out was because that's where I drew the parallels from the breakfast date scene. Diluted parallels, I know.
> 
>  
> 
> AND on to Itachi. Itachi tried to do everything himself since...he was what, five? It's what fucked him over, ultimately. And it wasn't until he realized after his death when he was reanimated that, wait, he fucked up, nothing worked out the right way, the war was still happening, Sasuke was enemy to the leaf and still intent on destroying it, Madara was getting his way, _he failed, he didn't do anything right, he couldn't protect sasuke, or the uchiha name, or fulfill his father's wishes, he failed, he failed, he failed._
> 
> Ah. Anywyas.
> 
> It wasn't until then that he realized that he shouldn't have shouldered everything, that he needed help, if only he had confided in Sasuke, maybe things wouldn't have happened the way they did. This into his self-hatred nicely and that's what I like to play with. *points to the fighting fiasco scene and mouths /parallels/*
> 
> I know that these things should be apparent in the actual story itself, but, whoopdeedoo, I'm a shit writer and can't seem to fucking do that so. Here it is. Dammit.
> 
> Also did you know I have a version of this chapter where Kisame breaks up with him in the back of the truck, Itachi goes home, and the story ends. Because I almost discontinued this. Ah, memories.
> 
> On that note, a special thanks to everyone who has taken the time to comment on this story because, honestly, I'm way too unsure of my work to have made it this far. So really, it means more to me than I can express. A very special thanks to Paperbows and Sunshine-Shimmy for giving me support when I needed it <3
> 
> WELL ENOUGH OF MY BLABBERING
> 
> If you, for some reason, like my blabbering, and ever want to scream to me about Naruto, or honestly anything, my tumblr is in my description and I'm always up to talk. I'm a sporadic replier, but really, stop by if you'd like ^^
> 
> I will try my dearest to update sooner. (I've also posted a oneshot since I last updated [I think??])
> 
> HAVE A WONDERFUL NEXT COUPLE OF WEEKS UNTIL I SEE YOU AGAIN, LOVELIES.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have no fuckin excuse for why this is ten years late. 
> 
> I have been writing other stories though. so. thats something. 
> 
> this chapter was...half betad. so?
> 
> This story is...officially over half way done. tear.
> 
> anyways enjoy the chapterino

The stray gravel of the parking lot black top crunched underneath the tires of Kisame’s black Avalanche. He hummed as he pulled into a parking spot in front of Oh Mai Pho.

The restaurant was closed already, and he was initially shooed away when he approached the glass doors. Adam recognized him, however, and assured the manager it was fine.

“I’m just here to see Itachi,” Kisame promised with a well-placed grin.

Itachi was sitting towards the back of the store, seated on a bar stool. A pretty white bowl contrasted sharply with the black table top in front of him. He was slumped—which wasn’t terribly uncharacteristic—as he stared dully into the soup.

“Hey,” Kisame said as he came up behind him.

Itachi’s head snapped up, spacey eyes focusing just slightly. “Kisame?”

“That’s me.” He offered a twitch of a grin. “Whatcha doin?”

“I should be asking you that.” Itachi frowned, scooting around on the stool to better face him. “Why are you here?"

“I just wanted to talk to you about something.” He took a seat on the stool next to him. “Are you…okay? You don’t seem well.”

Itachi’s eyes dropped to the floor. “Bad day,” he said quietly.

Kisame frowned, reaching out one hand to run through the bangs to the side of Itachi’s forehead. “Yeah? What’s wrong, baby?”

Itachi shrugged, turning back around towards the soup. “Nothing.”

“Something isn’t right,” Kisame insisted. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

Itachi sighed. “There’s nothing, Kisame. I just…get this way sometimes.” He stared into the soup, poking a sheet of beef with his chopsticks.

“Get this way?” Kisame prodded, leaning forward a little.

“Yeah.” He didn’t elaborate, so Kisame let it drop.

Itachi grabbed a spare pair of chopsticks and a Chinese soup spoon, handing them to Kisame. “Here, help me eat this.”

“No, you eat it. You need to.”

Itachi shook his head. “There’s no way I can fit all this in my stomach. If you don’t help me, it will go to waste.”

Kisame sighed. “Alright, fine. But I’m making you eat most of it.” He took the chopsticks from him, breaking them apart.

Itachi handed him the bottle of Sriracha. “Because I know you like the smother the flavor out of your food with hot sauce.”

Kisame grinned. “Someday I’ll get you to eat as spicy as me.”

Itachi didn’t respond.

“Baby?” Kisame tried, but Itachi just slurped up some noodles.

Kisame dipped his spoon into the broth and squirted some Sriracha into it so it wouldn’t pollute the rest of Itachi’s food. They ate in silence for a couple minutes, Kisame worriedly sending glances towards Itachi. Something was off; Itachi was _really_ down if he wouldn’t even converse with Kisame.

“Hey, is there anything I can do?” Kisame asked. “I know it’s probably just something you have to deal with but…can I make you feel better?”

Itachi’s fingers twitched. “Can you hold my hand?”

“Oh, babe,” Kisame chuckled a little, immediately reaching out and twisting their fingers together. “I can hold your hand.”

“Thanks,” Itachi muttered. Kisame frowned, eyeing the tired lines slanting across his cheeks.

“You look so tired.”

“I am, I guess.”

“Are you done here?” Kisame asked, looking around the empty restaurant. There was a waitress with headphones on sweeping between the tables, and Adam was finishing the dishes.

“I can’t leave until everyone is done, technically. I’m supposed to be helping, but Adam and Cynthia convinced me to sit and eat while they cleaned up.”

“Good,” Kisame grunted, eyeing the other two staff members. He’d have had a few choice words to say if they had forced him to keep working when he was obviously so upset. “As soon as you’re done eating, I’ll drive you home.”

“You don’t need to do that, Kisame,” Itachi said tiredly. “I have bus money.”

“I’m not arguing with you about this.” His voice was firm and his eyes were set. “Keep eating.”

Itachi didn’t say anything, floating the bottom of his spoon around on the broth.

“You’re not doing it right,” Kisame pointed out.

“I’m not hungry.” Some black hair slipped out of his bun and flopped in front of Itachi’s eyes. He didn’t bother brushing it out of the way.

Kisame’s fingers traced the curve of his face on his way to tuck it behind his ear. “I’m really worried about you.”

“You don’t need to be.”

“I _am_. It doesn’t matter what I do or do not need to do.”

Itachi shrugged listlessly.

“You’re not going to let me help you? You’re done opening up to me?”

Itachi looked up at him, something overwhelmed fluttering around the edges of his eyes.

Kisame let his thumb rub against Itachi’s chin. “It’s a lot, huh?”

Itachi just stared at him.

“Can you just tell me what you need? There has to be something. Something I can do to legitimately help you.” He leaned forward a little closer. “Babe.”

Itachi looked hesitant. “I don’t want to ask.”               

“And I’m telling you that it’s okay.”

Itachi chewed delicately on the inside of his lips. “I…don’t think it’s good if I sleep alone tonight. So…maybe you could—”

“Yes.”

Itachi wrinkled his nose. “You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“You want to stay over at my place.”

Itachi shook his head.

“Oh. Uh—well, continue, then.”

Itachi squeezed his fingers around Kisame’s. “Maybe you could…come spend the night at my apartment.”

Kisame’s eyebrows raised up his forehead slowly. “You want me to stay over? Yeah?”

“If that’s okay; but, I know you have work, and other things, so don’t—”

“No, its fine. I promise.” He smiled a little. “I’d love to spend the night with you. You know that.”

Itachi only shrugged.

Kisame kept a firm hold on his one hand, pestering him to eat more. Itachi thoroughly maintained that he didn’t have an appetite, but Kisame saw to it that he ate the majority of the bowl.

“I’m _full_. You’re going to make my stomach pop.”

Kisame kissed the top of his hair. “Get your things, I’ll take this to be washed.” He let Itachi’s hand go and brought the white bowl to Adam, who cleaned them quickly and set them out to dry on two white dish cloths. Itachi stood a little out of place by the door, waiting for Kisame.

“Take care, Itachi,” Cynthia said in earnest as Kisame pushed the door open.

Itachi looked upset that anyone was making any sort of deal over him.

Kisame shut the radio off in the car. Itachi was quiet the entire way over, but he did hold Kisame’s hand when offered. He only spoke up when Kisame need a direction or two.

He pulled into a parking space in Itachi complex. “So what do you think Sasuke’s gonna do when he sees me walk into his apartment?”

Itachi shrugged. “I don’t know. Sasuke’s pretty unpredictable.”

Kisame’s lips pressed into a line. Itachi was being so shut off, and he didn’t like it. He reveled in Itachi when he opened up to him and was honest…this just felt wrong. “Okay, well let’s go find out.”

Itachi was halfway up the stairwell when he paused. “Um, you should know—I mean, I should warn you, my house is a little…plain.”

Kisame raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”

Itachi frowned. “I’m just—don’t expect any—”

Kisame pressed his hand against Itachi’s mouth. “Itachi, don’t overthink this. Unless you have a fucking mortuary in your basement, I don’t care.”

Itachi sighed. “Alright.” He turned back up the stairs, fishing his key out of his pocket. “Welcome to casa del peasant,” he muttered.

Kisame rolled his eyes.

“Taidama,” Itachi called as he entered the apartment. “Sasuke—” He glanced at Kisame, and then a string of words Kisame couldn’t begin to understand tumbled off his lips.

Sasuke replied something in Japanese, and Itachi wrinkled his nose.

“Uh—you gonna fill me in?” Kisame asked. It wouldn’t be fair to say that he was nervous, since he wasn’t, not really, but—Sasuke had teeth and claws when it came to Itachi’s boyfriends, that much was apparent. He didn’t really know what he was in for.

“I just called him out to come say hi.”

Kisame raised an eyebrow, because he was fairly certain that Itachi was leaving something out.

Sasuke did eventually come out of his room, though he clearly wasn’t expecting Kisame to be there. His exterior immediately changed. He straightened, expression hardening, chin tilting upwards. Defiance radiated from him.

Intimidation. Nice.

“I…don’t know if you two have officially met though Suigetsu,” Itachi started, taking a breath, “but regardless, I haven’t introduced the two of you, so.” He gestured towards them. “Kisame, this is my little brother Sasuke. Sasuke, Kisame.”

Kisame grinned. “I think you might have been too drunk to remember me the handful of times we’ve interacted,” he joked, winking. “I’m glad to officially meet you, though. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Sasuke didn’t bite.

“Otouto….” Itachi muttered.

After a dry stare at Itachi, Sasuke crossed his arms. “Why is he here.” There was an intensity to Sasuke’s gaze that Kisame couldn’t pinpoint. He was asking his brother something, trying to communicate with him through bladed glances.

Itachi fidgeted, and Kisame frowned. “I invited him to spend the night.”

Sasuke calmly shifted his gaze to Kisame.

Kisame had to wonder—what the fuck was up with these two and their stares? ‘If looks could kill’ took on a whole new meaning. Maybe it was a genetic thing?

After a couple of uncomfortable seconds, Sasuke looked back to Itachi. “Doushite?”

Itachi tilted his head in question.

Sasuke glared for a moment and the motioned him over.

Kisame didn’t understand any of the resulting dialogue, because, first and foremost, he didn’t speak Japanese. Additionally, they spoke very softly, and quickly. The only thing he caught was Itachi insisting, ‘Daijoubu,’ a couple of times, which he tried to commit to memory so he could put it into google translate when he had the chance.

He did notice how close they stood together, and the crease between Sasuke’s eyebrows as he touched Itachi’s face. Itachi looked even more tired than before. He muttered something, and Sasuke’s expression became dark. Sasuke blocked Kisame out entirely, it seemed, his entire focus tunneled onto his brother’s well-being. The more they talked, though, the more Itachi’s shoulders sagged, the more his eyes went dull. Kisame wanted to interrupt, if it was making Itachi feel worse. It wasn’t a good idea, he knew that, but Itachi seemed…sad. Kisame inherently didn’t like things that made Itachi sad, and wanted to put an end to them. Sasuke wasn’t attacking him, that much was clear, so he wondered why Itachi seemed so exhausted.

After a couple more moments Sasuke embraced Itachi fiercely, placing a kiss on the top of his head—something that startled Kisame, just a little, because brother’s typically didn’t display affection like that. Not that he had a problem with it—no, he was just beginning to realize that he might have underestimated their relationship before. Itachi and Sasuke had something unique, something that Kisame was understanding he couldn’t compare to.

Sasuke then looked up at him and, straightening his back, crossed the room.

“It’s a pleasure to officially meet you,” he said dryly, his teeth grinding in the back. “I have some things to get back to, and I’m sure you can’t wait for the grand tour—” Kisame was very impressed by the sarcasm this kid could create on the spot, “—so I’ll let you two be. We can have a conversation in private some other time.”

Kisame grinned amicably at him. “I’ll look forward to it.”

He caught just a glimpse of Sasuke’s glare before he disappeared down the hall.

Itachi looked over at him. “Well…that wasn’t bad at all. You got off lucky.”

Kisame chuckled, making his way towards Itachi. “I’m sure he isn’t done with me. He’ll corner me later while I’m trying to take a piss or something and chew me out.” He studied Itachi’s face for a short moment. “What was all that about, between the two of you?”

“Oh,” Itachi muttered. He paused for a moment, looking at the ground. “He could tell something was wrong, he just wanted a chance to grill me on what it was. Specifically, wanted to make sure that you didn’t have anything to do with it.” He twisted his lips. “Sasuke’s very aware of my history of, uh. Having off days.”

‘Depression’ lingered in his words, unspoken, but loud enough for Kisame to pick up on.

“He wanted to make sure I was alright.”

“And are you?” Kisame asked seriously, tilting his head down to try and meet Itachi’s eyes.

He nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. It’s temporary, don’t worry.”

“You’re sure?”

He looked up. “Very sure. I’ve learned to tell the difference between little bouts of feeling down and…long term problems.”

A little heaviness settled in Kisame heart, because he didn’t take to the idea of Itachi being depressed. While he was with him, at least, he would try his best to make him feel better.

Kisame smiled. “Good. Now, where’s that grand tour Sasuke mentioned?”

An eyebrow was quirked, dark eyes incredulous. Kisame only grinned.

Itachi motioned listlessly around him. “Here it is—ratty couch, empty shelves. Welcome to my home.” He glowered at the naked walls and bare countertop.

“I think it looks wonderful,” Kisame commented gruffly.

Itachi gave him a dubious glare.

“It looks like the house of someone who’s sacrificed everything to take care of his family. It looks like the house of two brothers who don’t need fancy art or expensive junk to call a place home.” He tilted Itachi’s face up to meet his. “There’s nothing wrong with how you live, Itachi. And how much you have to decorate you house doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Itachi stared at nothing in particular. “It’s just a reminder.”

“Of what?”

Itachi shrugged. “Of everything that I wish I could fix.”

Kisame ran one hand over Itachi’s hair. “It’s also a reminder of how hard you work. Of how strong your bond is with Sasuke. Isn’t it?”

Itachi’s eyes were overwhelmingly tired. “I don’t know. I guess. I just….”

“I know,” Kisame interrupted. “It’s alright, Itachi.” After a beat, “Will you show me your room?”

Itachi nodded, motioning him into the hallway. “This,” he pointed to the first door on the left, “is my room. First door on the right is the bathroom, and after that is Sasuke. In the back of the hallway is the washroom.” He opened the first door up, letting Kisame walk in first.

Itachi’s room was a square. His bed was adjacent to the right wall, a nightstand next to it and a desk on the other side. He had a built in closet with sliding glass mirrors, dresser, and a bookshelf full of worn paperbacks. He didn’t have anything on his walls aside from an old scroll with Japanese calligraphy on it. Against the wall right next to the door was a cluttered table and a rolling chair that slanted brokenly to one side.

Kisame walked over to his bed, grinning a little. “Ah, so this is where you masturbate,” he joked, eyes wicked as he looked over at Itachi.

Itachi blinked. Eventually a snort escaped him. “Not really.”

Kisame raised an eyebrow, grin still lingering. “No? Never?”

Itachi only shrugged.

“Damn. Now it’s going to be hard for me to imagine.”

“You’ve been imagining it?”

Kisame only winked.

Itachi pulled is socks off and tossed them into the scratched plastic laundry hamper on the side of his desk. “Do you want to shower?” He asked, pulling the band out of his hair, rubbing the soreness away from his scalp.

“Nah, I showered before I came.”

“Okay. I’m gonna hop in real quick, so you can just….” He trailed down, hand still raised slightly, staring down at the plain white comforter on his bed. He suddenly looked lost.

“Itachi?”

“…I have a twin bed.”

Kisame blinked. “Uh, okay?”

Itachi turned around to look at him. “We both can’t fit on a twin bed, Kisame.”

“Oh.” He tilted his head. “Okay, that’s fine.”

“How is that fine?” Itachi’s forehead scrunched up. “Where are you going to sleep?”

Kisame shrugged. “I’ll take the floor.” It was carpeted, and Kisame had slept in much more uncomfortable places.

Itachi’s eyes widened. “I’m _not_ letting you sleep on my floor.”

“Then I’ll use the couch.”

“No, you can’t—!” Itachi sank down onto his bed, slumping forward. “What’s the point of having you stay over if we can’t even sleep together,” he muttered, letting his head fall in his hands.

“Woah—hey, Itachi, it’s okay. Hey,” he knelt down in front of him. “Look, it’s not a big deal.”

Itachi didn’t answer.

Kisame pressed his lips together. “C’mon, let’s get you in the shower. It will help you feel better, yeah?” He tried to pull Itachi to his feet.

“I’m sorry,” Itachi whispered.

“Babe,” Kisame laughed a little, unsure, shocked, “you don’t need to apologize. Here, get your sleep clothes.” He tugged on Itachi’s arm again.

Itachi moved like molasses as he stood up and walked towards the frayed sweats and old tshirt tossed over the back of his broken chair. Kisame watched him with a frown, one hand slightly outstretched, as if he might just fall to the ground.

“Hey,” he said quietly, trying to look him in the eyes. “You can sleep as soon as you get clean.”

Itachi nodded. “I know. I’m fine, I’m fine.” He sighed. “Just tired.”

Kisame put his hands on Itachi’s shoulders, directing him out of his room and towards the door Itachi had designated as the bathroom earlier.

“We still don’t know where you’re sleeping,” Itachi muttered as his bare feet his the cold tile, placing his clothes on the sink counter.

Kisame shrugged. “We’ll figure it out. I want you to take care of yourself first, though.” He leaned forward, giving him a small kiss. “I’ll wait in your room.”

“Alright. Feel free to make yourself at home; your clothes are in the bottom drawer of my dresser, if you want to change.”

Kisame closed the door behind him as he left the bathroom. Sasuke was propped against his doorframe, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face. Kisame waited for him to say something, but he remained silent.

Back in Itachi’s room, Kisame took the liberty to snoop a little bit. He just poked through the obvious stuff, mainly Itachi’s cluttered desk. It looked like a pile of keepsakes, though some of them he didn’t understand. There was a folder of old school papers from high school which put a spot light on Itachi’s intelligence. He got 100 percent on his finals for Anatomy, Chemistry, Spanish, Literature…there wasn’t a report card to go along with it, but Kisame could only guess it was just as flawless. There were certificates, too, and awards. There were other school papers from elementary school, but those were Sasuke’s. That was cute. To the other side of the desk was a stack of Children’s drawings, also Sasuke’s. One that stood out was of four people in front of a house, clearly a child’s cliché, messy but endearing depiction of a family. The two boys were holding hands, and giant flowers bloomed next to them in the blue-green grass.

There were also random things which didn’t seem to hold any significance. A receipt to a clothing store, a broken calligraphy pen, a blank notebook, a small plush figurine of an anime character, a pencil case that looked like a pocky box. He saw the theater ticket stub from Everest, though, which pleased him. There was a picture frame at the back of the table, spotless despite the mess surrounding it.

Itachi was a young teenager in the photo, maybe thirteen, and though you could _feel_ the early onset maturity from the photo, he had a childlike innocence in his smile. Sasuke was a little bubble of happiness next to him, haphazard hair, fat little cheeks, and the brightest smile Kisame had ever seen on a child. Their parents stood behind to him. The woman was beautiful, with black hair and a soft smile that radiated motherly affection. Sasuke got his looks from her, Kisame could tell. The man in the photo was stern looking, with frown lines set into the gradual wrinkles under his chin.

“That was taken a month before our parents were murdered.”           

Kisame almost jumped at the unexpected noise. “Oh—hey.” He glanced back down at the photograph. “Your parents were beautiful.”

“They were,” Sasuke agreed in a defensive tone. He didn’t follow up his precious statement, but had a look in his eyes like he was expecting Kisame to say something.

“I’m sorry about what happened to them,” Kisame tried, sounding awkward.

“I don’t want your pity.” Sasuke’s tone couldn’t really be considered friendly.

“Oh.”

An awkward silence took its place between them.  

“Did something happen with Itachi?” Sasuke eventually asked.

“What?”

“Something is wrong. You can tell, I’m sure, since you’re not completely incompetent.” Sasuke sounded like he was doing Kisame a favor by giving him the benefit of the doubt.

“All he told me was that he’s having an off day. I’m assuming he has a history of depression, from what I gathered.” Kisame set the picture frame down, turning to face Sasuke.

Sasuke narrowed his eyes. “Hm. Nothing else happened?”

Kisame put his hands up in surrender. “I swear, I didn’t do anything.”

Sasuke seemed to roll over the possibilities for a moment. He settled on Kisame telling the truth, evident by the slight relaxation of his posture.

Kisame chuckled a bit. “Is this the part where you chew me out? Where you scare me into submission?”

Sasuke’s gaze was bland. “No.”

“Really? I’m almost disappointed. I’ve been practicing my ‘yes, sir,’ and ‘no, sir,’ and ‘I’ll have her back by eleven, sir.” He chuckled to himself again.

“Itachi’s right,” Sasuke said dryly. “You aren’t funny.”

“What? Itachi’s never said that about me.”

Sasuke only raised an eyebrow.

“Hm,” he hummed. “So he talks to you about me. Interesting.” A crooked smile tilted his lips. “What else does he say? Besides my subpar comedic skills?”

Sasuke’s dark eyes held a myriad of emotion. Kisame tried to decode them—he’d spent so much time trying to decrypt Itachi, after all, it really should have been easier. He knew that Sasuke wasn’t fond of new people entering Itachi’s life, and he supposed that he had plenty of merit for that. But Kisame didn’t think that he had done anything _wrong_. Was Sasuke giving him a chance before he brought out the claws?

“You make him happy. Happy enough that he practically forgets that he was depressed for years.”

Kisame’s brows furrowed. “So he does have depression?”

Sasuke shrugged. “Not in the form of any official diagnosis. Itachi would never ‘waste,’” he grit out the word between his teeth, “money on appointments or medication. Depression is just an easy enough explanation.”

“So,” Kisame glanced at the door, into the hallway; he could hear the shower running. “Days like today, is what you mean?”

“Yeah. He gets this way, sometimes. Like all the weight he carries around all day just got to be too much for him. When he first started falling into it, we were still kids. Scared the shit out of me. He always tried to make me happy, always was smiling for me and humming to me. Putting his best foot forward, trying to make me see the brighter side of everything.” His jaw shifted. “One day he was just…empty. Couldn’t keep up the act.”

“That would be scary for a kid,” Kisame agreed. Hell, it was kind of scaring him _now_.

“He’s been getting better, though. After his…last boyfriend, he decided to change a lot of things. A stronger forest after a wild fire, or whatever.”

Kisame didn’t speak.

“He’s been working on himself, and he almost never has ‘those days’ anymore. But when he does, it’s unnerving.”

“Because you don’t want him to relapse.”

Sasuke’s eyes flashed up at him. “Yeah.” He took a step into the room. “I’m telling you this because you need to _understand_ that Itachi isn’t healthy. Not all the time.”

Kisame nodded. “I know that. It doesn’t change what he means to me.” He smiled. “But thank you.”

Sasuke’s brows furrowed. “For what?”

“For being honest with me, for trusting me with personal information. I’m not planning on disregarding it.”

“I do not trust y—” Sasuke snapped his mouth shut. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.” He fidgeted, almost imperceptibly, looking uncomfortable. “You’re sleeping over?”

Kisame laughed a little. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dream of being inappropriate—not while he’s feeling like this, not while you’re so nearby to cut my hands and balls off.” Kisame didn’t have a problem buttering Sasuke up a little bit.

Sasuke seemed satisfied. “Was it his idea to have you come over?”

“Yeah. He said that he didn’t want alone, knew it wouldn’t be good for him if he was alone tonight.”

Sasuke’s gaze softened. “That’s good,” he said quietly.

“Hm?”

His eyes flicked up. “Itachi isn’t good at asking for things. He isn’t good at relying on other people.”

“I’ve noticed,” Kisame muttered.

“But he asked you for this, and that means he’s making progress. That’s good.”

Kisame met Sasuke’s eyes for a second. He had found something for him and Sasuke to both relate to: taking care of and worrying about Itachi. At least they weren’t complete enemies. “Do you think you can talk to him for me? Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

Sasuke frowned. “About what?”

“Itachi forgot he had a small bed and is beating himself up for it now.”

“Wait, what?”

Kisame jerked his head towards the bed. “We both can’t fit in it, so I’ll probably just sleep on the floor, but Itachi’s acting like he committed some terrible wrong. I honestly don’t mind, but I don’t think he’ll listen to me. Can you talk sense into him?”

He stared at the bed for a moment. “I have an idea.” Sasuke tilted his head, eyes scanning the room. “Shove Itachi’s bed up against the back wall, I’ll be right back.”

Kisame blinked as Sasuke left the room, but dutifully shoved Itachi’s bedframe against the wall, fitting it against the other side of the desk. Sasuke came back in with a deflated air mattress in his arms and an electric pump.

“Help me open this up,” he ordered, kneeling on the ground by the outlet, plugging the pump in.

Kisame got it unfolded, the thick green lining fuzzy against his hands. He spread it out on the floor, letting Sasuke inflate it as he pulled Itachi’s mattress off of the spring frame.

When they finished, Sasuke fetched a spare couple of sheets, and the covered the two mattresses so it made one bed, piling the comforter and blankets on top of it.

“There,” Sasuke muttered. “That should be fine for the night.”

“Yeah,” Kisame grunted, “good plan.” He grinned over at Sasuke, raising a hand for a high five.

Okay, maybe they weren’t there yet. At least, that’s what Sasuke’s expression said.

Sasuke paused before he left the room. “…just keep your hands above the waist.”

Kisame snorted.

He knelt down next to Itachi’s dresser, grabbing the sweatpants. He got too hot when he slept to wear the hoodie, so he left it folded in the drawer. Only a minute or so later he heard the bathroom door open, and Itachi’s gentle footsteps tapped down the hall. He blinked rapidly when he walked back into his room.

“…what’s this?” He asked softly.

Kisame grinned, getting up from the makeshift bed and walking over to him. “This is an example of the fruits of Sasuke’s and my teamwork.” He took the worn towel from Itachi’s hands, noting the holes along the edges, and draped it over Itachi’s wet hair, drying it.

“Oh,” Itachi replied, letting one hand curl around Kisame’s wrist. His lips twitched a little at the edges. “I’d forgotten we had that mattress. Karin got kicked out of her home for a couple months last year; she stayed here.”

Of course Itachi would be the one to barely be able to support himself and his brother, and yet still have Karin stay with them when she needed it. Maybe it was true, maybe the people who got the harshest hands dealt to them walked with life in the most gracious ways.

“Well, Sasuke remembered. I told you we would work it out, right?”

Itachi nodded, eyelids drooping.

“You look tired,” he commented.

Itachi shrugged, rubbing the towel over his hair. “I guess,” he answered ambiguously.

“C’mere,” Kisame suggested, holding a hand out for him. Itachi pushed himself against Kisame’s chest, wet hair leaving damp spots on his shirt. “Do you want me to braid your hair?” He suggested, rusting the towel across the top of his head.

“You know how to braid?” Itachi mumbled in question.               

“Nah. But how hard can it be?” He led Itachi back towards the bed, coaxing him to sit down. He squeezed the white towel around fistful of Itachi’s hair a few more times, until drops of water stopped collecting at the tips. Itachi leaned against his chest, one hand resting on his thigh. “Now, how do I start?”

“Separate my hair into three plaits.”

Kisame did so accordingly, rubbing his fingers into Itachi’s scalp along the way.

“Take the outermost section and cross it over the middle one. Then do the same on the other side. Repeat.”

Kisame’s brow furrowed a little bit, but he did get the hang of it after a few tries. “Uh, I don’t think I’m very good at this.”

Itachi laughed a little. “It’s a learned skill. I can do it myself, it’s fine.” He reached his hand back, trying to pull his hair out to the front, but Kisame grabbed his hand and kissed the knuckles.

“I can do it, you just sit there and relax.” He used his fingers to comb the half-correct braid out of Itachi’s hair, nose wrinkling at the little knots that kept snagging towards the bottom.

“You can just rip those, it doesn’t hurt that badly.”

“Like hell I am.” Kisame spent a couple extra minutes threading the tangles apart. He tried again at the braid, a bit more successfully than the last time. “There,” he announced, satisfied. “See, I told you I could do it.”

“I’m very proud of you,” Itachi murmured, voice a mix of drowsiness and sarcasm.

Kisame slipped out of the bed for just a moment so he could turn the lights off. Once back at the bed, pulled Itachi down to settle in the comforter, rolling him over so they could face each other. Itachi raised one hands to press against Kisame’s naked chest, butterfly touches that traced the curves and swells of his muscles.

“You drive me crazy when you do shit like that, you know that?”

Itachi raised an eyebrow. “When I touch you?”

A chuckle. “It doesn’t take much.” Kisame’s fingers wandered up Itachi’s arm, eventually resting on his cheek, one thumb stroking the skin under his eye. “Hey, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Itachi’s eyes flicked up, a worried glow appearing underneath his tiredness. “Oh. That’s not good.”

“Huh?”

“It’s never a good thing when your boyfriend says ‘we need to talk,’” Itachi muttered, fingers curling ever so slightly against his chest.

Kisame laughed. “No, no, it’s nothing like that.” He tapped his thumb against Itachi’s cheekbone. “I’m going home.”

Itachi blinked slowly. “Forever?”

“ _No_. I’m going for a month.”

Itachi hummed. He reached up and slid his fingers against the hand Kisame had resting against his face. “A month? That’s not bad.”

“No?”

Itachi shook his head, letting his eyes close. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow night.”

Itachi’s eyes flew open. “What?!”

“Sorry, I know it’s late notice. I just wanted to be there for Thalia’s funeral. I only booked it yesterday.”

Itachi tried to push himself up on one elbow. Kisame pressed him back down into the comforter. “Kisame, if you’re leaving tomorrow, you should be at home right now, not here with me.”

“I should always be here with you,” Kisame countered easily. “I’m already packed, my boarding passes are printed and on the kitchen counter. Mangetsu is driving me to the airport. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“But—”

“Why do you think I drove to your work to tell you instead of just calling you on the phone?” He pulled Itachi forward into his chest, burying his nose into black hair. “I’m not going to see you for a _month_. I need my fill of you while I can get it.”

Itachi slid one arm across his waist. “Alright. Fine. But international flight require you to be checked in—”

“A minimum of two hours before boarding, I’m well aware. It takes 45 minutes to get to the airport. I board at six-fifty. That means I literally have all morning and much of the afternoon to spare. So—shh.” He kissed the top of Itachi’s hair. “Stop trying to kick me out of your house.”

“I’m not,” Itachi muttered. He relaxed a little, feeling Kisame’s gently breaths against his hair. “Will you be able to call me while you’re there?”

“Over Wi-Fi, yeah. I just—can’t promise how much. I’m really going to be with them as much as possible; there won’t be a lot of alone time.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want anything otherwise.” A pause. “But you can call me a few times, right?”

Kisame chuckled. “I’ll try to talk to you every night before bed. Does that sound fair?”

Itachi nodded into his chest, pressing a kiss against a dark line of his tattoo. “Okay. I’ll miss you.”

“I miss you already.”

After a pause, Itachi said, “Thalia’s funeral, you said?”

“Huh? Yeah.”

“So your aunt made it? She’s okay?”

“Oh,” Kisame grinned, “yeah. She’s good. Strong woman, she’ll get through it. My uncle has been like iron for her, so I’m not stressed out over her anymore.”

“That’s good. That’s really good,” Itachi mumbled, sleep seeping into his voice.

There was a bout of silence after that, and Itachi started to fall asleep. Kisame shifted a little, pulling the pillow down to cushion their heads. “Night, baby,” he murmured, lips still pressed against Itachi’s hair. He stayed like that for a couple more minutes, blinking into the darkness.

Itachi’s breathing evened out fully, his whole body loosening up and going limp as he drifted off. Kisame was quite relaxed and comfortable when he heard a noise in the hallway.

The door creaked open, dull light from the hallway beaming through the crack. Sasuke poked his head through.

He looked softer than before, more tired than Kisame had seen him. “You can see it, right?” He asked quietly.

Kisame cocked his head.

“How much Itachi deserves. I’m not going to sit here and chastise you, or try to scare you into taking care of him, because if you’re worthy of him you should do that anyways. I just—” he paused there, taking a long look at Itachi’s sleeping back. “Take care of him. Don’t hurt him. _Please_.”

Kisame used his chin to nudge Itachi’s head closer into his neck. “I will,” he whispered. “I promise.”

Sasuke stared at them for just one more second. “Uh. I’m sorry for your loss, by the way. Good luck in Upolu.”

Kisame smiled. “Thank you.”

Sasuke clicked the door shut quietly.

Kisame kissed Itachi’s temple a couple times, feeling the movement of his breathing, soft and warm in his arms. Kisame had never been so attached to the little things like this. Never been so content to just listen to someone breathe, to feel the exhalations against his skin. He could lay there and stroke and comb and braid Itachi’s hair for the rest of eternity without getting bored. He could watch Itachi grade his students’ papers until the world ended. He _wanted_ to.

He hadn’t felt that way with Sandy, even, and he had thought that she was his soul mate.

Itachi was different. Itachi was so different. He had lodged himself into a dormant wedge of Kisame’s heart and was bringing some part of him to life again.

“Oh, my Itachi,” he murmured, pressing him tighter ever so slightly. He seriously considered just _not_ sleeping. He’d rather stay up all night and just watch him and hold him. Suck up as much of his presence as he could before he left him.

He could sleep all night on the plane, anyways.

The lullaby of Itachi’s breathing eventually became too enticing, though, and Kisame was soon asleep, face nestled in Itachi’s hair.

\--

Itachi sniffed, fingers digging into the pillow his face was buried in. He stretched the muscles in his shoulder and flexed his toes.

He rolled over in the bed and pushed his face into the comforter, refusing to open his eyes. He unstuck his legs from the tangled blankets around him, kicking a little as the cold air washed over his exposed foot. The muscles about his shoulder blades flexed as he pushed his arms above is head, stretching his wrists. One hand flopped onto the sheets next to him. They were smooth and cool. Itachi wanted to bury his head in them and go back to sleep.

But, wait, they shouldn’t be cool at all, they should be—

“Kisame?” Itachi opened his eyes up to the bright room and lifted his head up.

His bed was empty.

“Kisame,” he whined, collapsing back into the sheets. After a moment he pushed himself to his elbows, frowning at the white sheets. “Kisame,” he called, a little louder. He didn’t get an answer from the hallway, so he slid out of bed and made his way for the door. The apartment was quiet, incredibly so. All he could hear was the hum of the refrigerator and the soft clicking of Sasuke’s laptop keyboard.

He checked the bathroom first, since it was close.

Empty.

He padded to the kitchen.                                                  

Empty.

That was the grand total number of rooms Itachi had to his name, so if Kisame wasn’t anywhere there….

That meant he wasn’t there at all.

He went back inside his room, running a hand over his hair out of habit, feeling the plaits of his braid fondly. When he reached for the hairbrush he kept on his desk, he noticed the pajama bottoms Kisame wore slung over his broken chair. Kisame’s clothes had disappeared, as well.

So he really had left.

Well—that was okay. Itachi couldn’t expect him to stay, not when he was leaving the country in only hours. He knew that Kisame was probably being unrealistic when he said he would spend the morning with him. He did wish that Kisame had at least said goodbye, but Kisame was far too considerate towards him to wake him up for that.

It still made him sad, though. He was in such a shitty mood the night before, he felt like he didn’t really properly say goodbye to him. And now he wasn’t going to see him for a month.

He hadn’t even kissed him hardly. Like, maybe one peck.

He hadn’t even _kissed him._

Holding in the groan that was rolling around his chest, he took out his braid and started brushing his hair. He was bitter, a little bit. He already missed Kisame, and he was frustrated that he wasted his last night with him acting so whiny and depressed.

He finished combing his hair and headed to the bathroom to wash his face and teeth. There was a spare toothbrush sitting on the counter that Kisame must have used.

He sighed.  

Itachi was digging through the fridge looking for some yogurt to eat for breakfast when the knock out the door sounded.

He stood up straight and closed the fridge, frowning as he headed towards the door. Who would be knocking so early? He checked the peephole and his eyebrows shot up his forehead. He quickly slid and clicked the locks. "Kisame?" He asked.

"Ah, shit. I was hoping I'd make it back before you woke up." He had two bags in one hand, something that looked like a tool kit in the other. He leaned forward and kissed Itachi's cheek on the way inside.

"What are you doing back?" Itachi asked, blinking as he closed the door behind him.

"What do you mean? You thought I bailed without saying goodbye?" He frowned, setting the toolbox on the floor and dumping the bags on the counter. "I told Sasuke what I was doing."

"And what would that be?" Itachi asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Sasuke didn't say anything to me."

"I just ran to get some groceries. Bacon and eggs and the whole works. While I was there I figured I'd go home and grab my toolkit and fix that broken chair of yours."

"You didn't...." Itachi frowned cutely, face crinkling up. "C'mere."

"Huh?"

"Come here."

Kisame grinned a little, languidly approaching Itachi. "You rang?"

Itachi stretched up on his toes for a kiss. "You owe me morning snuggles." He wrapped his arms around Kisame's neck.

"I was going to give you those morning snuggles, if only you had stayed asleep."

“You didn’t need to leave to do either of those things.” He kissed the tip of his nose. Oh, his whole heart was beaming, having Kisame back in his arms.

“I want to cook you a real breakfast. You didn’t let me last time. Besides, the second I mentioned it to Sasuke he got all excited. You’re starving him, aren’t you?”

Itachi kissed his cheek. “If I win the lottery I’ll be sure to invest in some culinary lessons.”

Kisame chuckled. “Or I could teach you. I could teach you how to make tuna tartare and then eat it off your naked body.”

“Tuna? That doesn’t sound sexy. I’d rather you cover me in chocolate ice cream.” He kissed his other cheek.

Kisame squeezed his hips. “Oh, don’t say that, baby, don’t say that. I’ve been good. You’re gonna make me go crazy.”

“You’re leaving town anyways. You’re stuck with your own hand no matter what I say.”

Kisame pulled back a little to look him in the eyes. “What happened to you from when I went out to now? You’ve never been so flirty.” He grunted. “Provocative, actually.”

“Provocative?” Itachi laughed a little. “I’m no such thing.”

“You should wear my shoes for a day.” He bumped their noses together. “Maybe you would have mercy if you were driven crazy all the time like me.”

“Who says you don’t drive me crazy?”

Kisame groaned. “ _Babe_. Please. I can only take so much.”

Itachi hummed, sliding both his hands up to cup Kisame's face. He tugged him down again, pressing their lips together, asking for a little more. Kisame made a small noise and wrapped his arms tightly around Itachi’s lower back. Itachi got sick of stretching up, so he tugged on Kisame’s shirt and made something of a moan. He got the hint, thankfully, and picked him up and set him on the counter. He grabbed Itachi’s face, tilting his head and licking Itachi’s lips open. Itachi’s hands couldn’t decide if they wanted to tangle in Kisame’s hair or grab his jaw or biceps or rub all over his stomach.

They settled on some cocktail of all three.

“Uh—” came a bladed voice from the hallway, “when you said you were going to make breakfast, I didn’t think that was code for sucking on my brother’s tongue.”

Kisame pulled away with a pop and licked his lips. “Yeah, thanks for telling Itachi about me leaving to get ingredients, by the way. Let him believe I skipped out.”

Sasuke’s stare was dead. “You didn’t ask me to tell him anything.”

Kisame snorted, one hand rubbing Itachi’s waist. “You’re a bit of a fan of conflict, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, you’re not quite familiar enough to be talking to me that way. Now start being useful or I’ll throw you out on your ass.”

Itachi hummed, sliding his fingers into Kisame’s hair and tugging. “One more,” he murmured, leaning forward for a last kiss. Sasuke was edging for the sink, so Itachi hopped off the counter before he had a chance to spray them with water. After eyeing them for a few seconds, Sasuke became apparently satisfied with the distance between them and disappeared back into the hallway.

Kisame headed towards the stove, pulling the grocery bags with him. Itachi got him a couple of frying pans, setting the on the stove and turning it on.

“Can you cut some peppers without setting anything on fire?”

Itachi glared at him. “I can do plenty of things in the kitchen. Inexperience does not equate disaster.”

“It does when it comes to you.”

Brushing off the well-meant bullying, Itachi pulled the shiny red peppers out of the grocery bags, wadding them up so he could put them in the closet later. “So, how much do I owe you for the groceries?”

“What?” Kisame asked, cracking a couple eggs in a pan.

“How much do I owe you?”

“What?”

Itachi’s eyebrows dented in. “The ingredients. How much were they?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t understand what you’re saying.” He was hiding a grin as he added cheese to the eggs.

 Itachi glared. “ _Kisame_.”

“ _Itachi_.”

“I’m not playing around.”

“Neither am I. The kitchen is no place for games.” He grinned as he began laying bacon strips out on a buttered pan, the sharp sizzling filling the kitchen and overtaking Itachi’s voice.

Itachi was frigidly slicing an onion when he felt Kisame’s arms wrap around his waist, lips seeking out his cheek. “Don’t touch me.”

“Baby—”

“Don’t ‘baby,’ me,” he snapped, jerking back and elbow in to Kisame’s stomach.

“Itachi, I just—”

“Why do you refuse to respect me about this?” Itachi demanded, whirling around.

Kisame blinked. “Wha—”

“You know how I feel about this, yet you won’t ever consider my feelings. You always act like you’re right and I’m just being a brat. When we bought groceries for your house, you insisted to pay. And when you buy groceries for my house, you still don’t let me pay.” He lost a little steam, staring at the ground. “You tell me to compromise with my brother, but then refuse to do it with me?”

Kisame stared at him, hands half outstretched, eyes swirling with shock. “I’m—sorry. Itachi, I’m sorry. You’re right, I’m not being fair. I just—no, yeah, you’re right.” He dug his wallet out of his pocket, producing a receipt. “Here, you can pay half.”

“Half?”

“I’m not a smart shopper like you, and I probably bought way too much. I’m sure this would be half the amount on here if you had shopped.”

Itachi took the receipt from him though he didn’t meet Kisame’s eyes.

“Do you forgive me?” Kisame asked, fingers pressing gently against Itachi’s jawline, trying to coax him to look up.

“Of course I forgive you,” Itachi muttered. “I hate feeling helpless. That’s the root of it.”

“I’m sorry, babe,” he said, pulling Itachi back into his arms. “I guess it’s just one of those things we disagree on. I should have been more flexible.”

“We should probably talk through it,” Itachi said, “since it keeps coming up.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But—I dunno, can we do it later? I don’t want to fight right now. Since I’m leaving soon. I want to enjoy this morning with you.” He hummed.

“Okay, we’ll put it on a to-do list. But maybe we can enjoy our last morning…without burnt eggs and bacon.”

“Ah, shit!” Kisame abruptly pulled away. He saved both the eggs and the bacon, thankfully. The eggs were done and he slid them out of the pan and onto a plate. “Scrape this off with a spatula and then put the peppers and onions and diced tomatoes in it.”

Sasuke wandered out of the hallway a few minutes later, drawn by the savory smell wafting from the kitchen. He was a little wary, like a baby animal nudging out of its nest to eat. He scooted up next to his brother. “Tell me what part of this you cooked so I can avoid it.”

Itachi twisted his head to kiss Sasuke’s cheek, slicing through a large, perfectly red tomato. “But I’m preparing this. You’re telling me going to eat it?”

Sasuke hummed, resting his chin on Itachi’s shoulder.

“You’re getting too tall.”

“You’re getting to short.”

Itachi laughed.

“Breakfast is served,” Kisame interrupted, grinning.

Itachi plated the fresh tomato and made his way to the kitchen. Sasuke was sitting a little too eagerly, eyes roving over the plate of bacon and the cheese eggs.

“I bet this is the first real meal you’ve had in…how long?” Kisame joked.

“I don’t like you enough for you to make fun of my brother yet.” Sasuke grabbed the plate of tomatoes, taking three slices before scooping a pile of eggs onto his plate.

“Fair is fair,” Kisame conceded, passing Itachi the sautéed peppers and onions. “I better see you eat,” he said, sticking a strip of bacon in his mouth.

Itachi rolled his eyes. “So, how is school?” He asked Sasuke, sipping his water.

“Fine. Most people in my class are stupider than me, no offense,” he said honestly. He scooped a gratuitous amount of eggs into his mouth. “Okay, this is really fucking good.”

“Language,” Itachi reminded with a frown. “And don’t eat like such an animal. And sit up straight.”

“Okay, _mom_.” Sasuke straightened his back and rolled his eyes.

Itachi picked up a piece of bacon and held it out towards Kisame. “Open.”

Kisame grinned. “Is this a tradition, now?” He asked after swallowing. “You feeding me bacon?”

“It can be. If you come back over and stay the night so you can make breakfast for me,” Itachi replied, taking a bite off the same strip of bacon.

“It’s not going to take too much to convince me to come crawl in bed with you.”

“ _Okay_ ,” Sasuke stressed, “I’m trying to be really generous about this but you are _pushing it_.”

“Gomene, little brother,” Itachi apologized halfheartedly, a sing song to his voice, holding out more bacon for Kisame.

Despite the sheer amount of food Kisame had prepared, they managed to finish it all. Sasuke shooed Kisame out of the kitchen as soon as he began gather dishes for the sink.

“Itachi and I will take care of it,” he promised.

“And I should…?” Kisame prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“Fix his chair like you promised.” Sasuke hip bumped Itachi closer to the sink. “I need to talk to my brother.”

“Very well,” Kisame said good-naturedly, chuckling as he moved into the hallway. It shouldn’t take long.

“You’re so rude, little brother,” Itachi scolded, turning on the water.

“I just want to talk to you. Besides, he did promise to fix your chair.” Sasuke scraped spare food and ketchup off the plates and into the garbage disposal, handing them to Itachi to be soaped up.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Itachi asked as he cleaned.

“Did he touch you last night?”

Itachi raised an eyebrow. “You make it sound unconsensual.”

“So he _did_ touch you?”  He switched to drying.

“No, Sasuke, he didn’t.”

“Did you touch him?”

“ _No_ , Sasuke. We just snuggled and fell asleep.”

“That’s pretty gay.”

Itachi’s eyes rolled to the side, gaze sarcastically dead. “Exactly what will you not be upset about.”

Sasuke shrugged, dipping a rag into a glass drinking cup to remove the water droplets.

Itachi sighed.

They finished cleaning the dishes quickly, Itachi leaving Sasuke in charge of taking care of putting them all away so that he could spend more time with Kisame before he left—which had to be any minute now.

Upon entering his room, he found Kisame spinning around in his no longer crooked desk. “Ta-da,” he said through a grin.

Itachi raised an eyebrow. “I messed around with that for an hour. You fixed it in ten minutes?”

“Ah, so that’s the reason it was so messed up. Please, for the good of everyone, don’t ever try to fix anything ever again.”

Itachi shrugged. “I’ve never pretended to be a handy man. That’s why I have you now, right?”

“Ah, is that the reason you’re keeping me around? This has all been a ruse just so I can fix things for you, huh?”

“Yep.” Itachi’s lips popped on the ‘p’ as he plopped himself onto Kisame’s lap. “Kiss?”

Kisame grinned, pressing several smacking kisses to Itachi’s lips. “I like your brother, you know.”

“You do? I’m surprised. He’s been nothing but rude to you.”

“That’s not true, baby.” He kissed on Itachi’s neck. “It must be nice to have someone like that. He loves you so much.”

“Yes,” Itachi said, smiling. He wrapped his arms around Kisame’s neck. “Sasuke’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and ever will.”

“Damn. You’re not gonna leave me for him, are you?”

Itachi nuzzled their noses together. “No.”

Kisame reached behind him and grabbed Itachi’s hair brush off the desk. He pulled it through Itachi’s hair, wrinkling his nose at the snags. “It’s really pretty, you know. A little dry, though; it keeps breaking off when I run the brush through it.”

“I know. I don’t take very good care of it. Conditioner adds up, and it’s just a frivolity.”

Kisame didn’t like the way Itachi referred to taking care of himself as a frivolity, but he let it pass. “You know what’s a lot cheaper than conditioner and does a great job?”

Itachi raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Coconut oil.”

“Oh. I have some of that in the kitchen. I didn’t know that had other purposes behind cooking.”

Kisame shrugged. “Just letting you know.”

“How sly,” Itachi murmured, reaching forward to grab Kisame’s hand. “You have to go soon, huh?”

“Yeah, probably. And here you were trying to convince me to leave last night.”

“I was a mess last night. Sorry about that.”

“No need for apologies,” Kisame murmured, pulling Itachi in to hold against his chest.

"Do you ever get tired of it?" Itachi asked, skirting his hands up Kisame's strong arms.

"Tired of what?" Kisame asked. His jaw was set and his brows were kind of furrowed; the muscles in his neck were tensed, arms locked around Itachi's waist.

Itachi was melting. "Tired of taking care of me? Of dealing with me?"

Kisame snorted, digging his thumb into Itachi’s hip. “You say such dumb shit sometimes, Itachi.”

“It’s not dumb,” he mumbled. “I’m serious.” He slid his hands all the way up Kisame’s chest to his neck. “I feel like you’re babysitting me half the time.”

“Does that mean you’ll call me daddy?”

Itachi blinked, and then wrinkled his nose, tilting his head to the side. “Why on earth would I ever…?”

Kisame burst into laughter, burying his face into Itachi’s hair.

“What? I don’t get it.”

“Never mind, never mind,” he snickered.

“What, what’s so funny? Tell me.” Kisame just kept laughing, so Itachi yanked his shirt. “ _Tell me_.”

“I’ll tell you later,” Kisame promised. “Trust me, now’s not the time or place.”

Itachi harrumphed a little, but settled for molding back into Kisame’s arms. Kisame was so strong, and big and…warm and comforting and _oh_ time and space didn’t matter when Kisame held him, nothing _mattered_ except staying there forever.

And suddenly Itachi was so overwhelmed by his own heart, fingers fluttering around the tattoos on Kisame's cheeks. He brushed his lips against his, just enough that Kisame leaned in closer.  "I....Kisame, I....' he shifted.” I don't want you to leave," he finished, frowning internally. That wasn’t what he wanted to say, but…."I mean, I want you to go and be with your family but—"

Kisame pressed his chin on top if Itachi's head. "I understand. If it were any other situation I would take you with me."

"As if I could afford a trip like that."

"I would pay for you. Obviously." Eye roll.

Itachi pulled back, eyes flaring. "You would not—"

"Okay. Let's not fight over something that isn't even happening. Not when I have to leave in…five minutes.” He sighed, squeezing Itachi’s waist.

“Only five minutes?” Itachi stretched up on his toes. “You better start kissing me, then.”

Kisame grinned.

Itachi was feeling very limp and gooey, Kisame’s tongue leaving him damn near light headed, when Sasuke came into Itachi’s room with a harsh clear of his throat.

Kisame gave Itachi one last kiss and slid his hand up from his ass into safer territory. Itachi reluctantly stood up, letting Kisame get up, as well. “I should get going.” His voice was throaty, and Itachi wanted to crawl back in his lap and kiss him a little longer.

“Yeah,” Sasuke agreed, arms crossed as he leaned against the door jam.

Itachi rolled his eyes at his brother before grabbing Kisame’s hand and leading him towards the door. “Drive safely. Can you text me before you board?”

“Of course.” He kissed the top of Itachi’s head. “I’ll see you in a month.”

Itachi hummed. “Just a month.”

Kisame laughed a little, opening the door. “Don’t miss me too much. I’ll call you, remember?”

“I remember. Goodbye. Good luck, too.” He watched Kisame descend a couple of steps before he closed the door and turned around.

Sasuke was standing behind him with a scarf.

Itachi blinked. “What is that for?”

“Your first student comes in 20 minutes, and you have a bright red hickey on your throat.”

\--

Itachi spun in his desk chair.

Bored. Bored, bored, bored….

The restaurant had a small malfunction with the oven and it caught fire. Someone let a slab of beef fall in there, all the way in the back where it got snagged across a rack, and it cooked and cooked (and the oven was so old, it freaked out and smoked up the whole room.) As per code, the place needed to be shut down for a day or two to make sure the problem wouldn’t happen again.

So now he was stuck at home, with nothing to do all afternoon. He didn’t mind, not really, because he was still getting paid. He just wasn’t used to having such a large block of free time at his disposal. What to _do._

Kisame spent a good ten minutes on the phone whining about the unfairness of it all. Right when he leaves town, _then_ Itachi gets paid leave from work.

Itachi mostly scolded him for being ungrateful, but he really wished Kisame was there to enjoy his time off with him.

He missed Kisame. A lot. More than he thought he would. In theory, it wasn’t that hard to be without a lover for a few weeks. But in practice….

Itachi wasn’t even a clingy person. He was fond of alone time, of personal space. He dealt well with taking care of himself and being on his own.

For too long, though, he had been _lonely_. And he was rather used to having Kisame around. He was rather used to not feeling lonely anymore. It was like taking a cozy jacket off on a cold night; suddenly he realized how awful he felt before, in the absence of the comfort.

It wasn’t even because Kisame was his boyfriend. Of course, boyfriends were special. Kisame was sweet on Itachi and made him feel like he dripped of honey and diamonds. But even more than that, Kisame was his _best friend_.

Itachi didn’t have any other friends.

That wasn’t a…good thing, he was sure. He just wasn’t all too skilled at making friends, was never quite sure what to do or what to say.

But…he should try, right? He could try. He had so much time on his hands for the next two days.

It was then, in a lightning bold of miraculous timing, that he remembered something. He got up from his desk chair and moved to his cluttered desk, digging through little slips of paper. It wasn’t there, so he checked his drawers, even the floor under his dresser. It would be just like him, to throw it away….

Luck was with him—for maybe the first time in his life—when he found it at the bottom of his clothes hamper, where it must have slipped out of the pocket of his pants from that night.

He tapped his thumb against the unintimidating—it really was, he had to convince himself of that—card, blinking at the black numbers.

What’s the worst that could happen, right?

He plopped onto his bed, scrunching up the comforter where he landed, and unlocked his phone. He carefully tapped the numbers into the dial pad, checking it a few times before he called.

“Hello, you’ve reached the office of Maria Arietta, how may I help you?”

“Hi, I’m—my name is Itachi Uchiha.”

“Hmm, Uchiha?” There was tapping on the other line. “I don’t recall any students of that name, are you the guardian of someone here?”

Itachi wrinkled his nose. “No, actually, I was calling to talk to you.”

“To me?” There was hesitation in her voice. “Have we met before, sir?”

“I ran into you at The Grind a little while back.”

Silence. “ _Sir_ ,” Itachi could hear the set of her teeth in her words, “I would first like to inform you that making this type of call to my work place is wildly inappropriate. Secondly, I am _married_ and—”

“Maria,” Itachi interrupted, shaking his head to himself. “You’ve misunderstood me. My name is Itachi—do you remember me? I spoke with you, and your husband, Alec, while I was there with a guy I was dating.”

A beat, and then a _squeal_. “Oh my god, _Itachi!_ ” She giggled. “Of course I remember you! Oh my, I was terribly rude to you, my apologies! Today’s just been a long day and—oh, never mind about all that. What can I do for you?”

Itachi didn’t know if he had ever heard someone so excited to do him a favor. “Nothing much. I have a couple days off work and was wondering if you would be partial to meeting somewhere.”

“Absolutely! Do you have today off? I could meet you as soon as I’m done with work! Alec doesn’t get home until seven on Tuesdays, so I always have so much free time on my hands. There’s this really cute pastry shop in Crestline that offers afternoon tea and all sorts of cute little snacks.”

“That sounds fun,” Itachi replied, smiling to himself. Maria’s energy was infectious.

“Oh good, good! Itachi, may I save this number in my cell phone? I can text you the address!”

“That’s fine.”

“Yay! I’m so excited! Well, I really should go—after all, no personal calls on an office phone and all that yada yada. I’ll see you at around three thirty, does that sound acceptable?”

“I’ll see you then.” Itachi rolled over onto his back.

“Alright! Drive safely! See you!”

The phone hung up, and Itachi’s hand fall down next to his head.

Well, that wasn’t so bad.

And now he had a date

\--

It was kind of fun, Itachi thought, all of Maria’s wild hair, as it nearly entangled his face as she hugged him.

“Itachi! I was so sad when you never ended up calling me after I met you. I simply must ask, how did—!” she slapped a hand over her mouth as she pulled away. “No, I can at least wait until we’re seated.”

He smiled at her, a little confused. At least he knew he wouldn’t have to carry the conversations.

Maria led him into the bakery. It definitely looked like some place she would go, with mismatched pink and green chairs, lacy umbrellas for the tables, and polka dots everywhere. There were porcelain figurines of babies and animals on the shelves, and large glass pastry displaced at multiple points throughout the shop.

Maria was clearly a regular. The staff greeted her warmly, a cute girl with a long blonde ponytail clapping behind the register. “Maria! Welcome back. It’s been too long!”

“Ino!” Maria bounced forward, leaning over the counter to hug her. “It really has been, my dear. How is Sakura?”

“Beautiful, as always. She’s in the flower shop right now, but you better say hi to her before you leave! She’ll throw a fit if she finds out you stopped by without talking to her.”

They spoke for a few minutes, Itachi standing silently behind Maria (who hadn’t bothered introducing him, not that he minded at all). Ino eventually leaned around her too smile at Itachi.

“And who is this?” She asked. “New friend?”

“Oh! Yes, of course, this is Itachi! We met a few months ago and finally got around to meeting again. This is Itachi! Itachi, this is my good friend, Ino. Do you want to know the cutest thing?”

“I would,” Itachi replied, amused.

“Sakura started this pastry shop, and Ino’s flower shop moved in right next door. They started dating and ended up partnering their businesses. It’s just the cutest thing I’ve ever heard!”

Itachi chuckled. “Flowers, sweets, and romance? That’s pretty cute.”

Ino smiled brightly. “I’ll get you two seated on the patio. Follow me!”

They were led through the quaint little shop. Itachi admired the whimsical knickknacks along the way. The happy patio was bordered by a white picket fence. There were mint colored porcelain tables and lace chairs, umbrellas fit for a princess shading each one. On the other side of the fence was the flower shop Ino must have been referring to earlier.

Maria knew the menu by heart, and ordered two pots of tea. One was green, Itachi’s favorite, and the other lavender, which Maria adored. Maria picked out two types of scones and little glazed tea cakes. There were little sugar gel sweets in the shape of flowers that faintly reminded Itachi of wagashi.

They were at last settled, Maria delicately pouring them both cups of tea, when a part enthralled, part devious smile lit her face “Alright, enough of this anticipation. You simply must tell me what became of the two of you!”

“The two of us?” Itachi asked, picking up the teacup. He preferred the Japanese cup, but this was fun, too.

“You and Kisame!” Maria exclaimed with barely concealed excitement.

“Oh.” Duh. Itachi cleared his throat. “We’re doing well.”

“So you’re still…?”                                                                                           

“Together? Yes. It’s been almost five months now.”

Maria clapped her hands. “I’m so happy for you. Really, truly. The two of you seemed so…fit together when I saw you at The Grind.”

Itachi hummed. “It seems that way sometimes.”

“The two of you and Alec and I should go on a double date sometime!” Maria suggested.

“That would be fun. I’m sure Kisame would love to, but it will have to wait. Kisame lost some family, and is out of the country in his hometown for a month.”

Maria pressed a hand to her heart. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Do pass along my condolences to him.”

“I will.” Itachi offered a little smile. “He being gone has left me with a lot more free time than I usually have.”

“You’re welcome to come over and have dinner with Alec and me! Eating by yourself can get awfully lonely.”

Itachi hummed. “Thank you for the offer. I usually eat dinner with my brother, though.”

“Invite him, too!”

Itachi laughed a little.

They made small talk for a little while. Maria asked about Sasuke, a subject Itachi never got tired of bragging about. Maria talked about her job, how much she loved it. Itachi told her about the incident at work, about his students (turned out, one of the kids he tutored went to her school). Eventually they settled on the subject of Alec. Maria talked about him like he was made of gold, like he was the best thing to ever happen to her. Itachi supposed he was.

“It’s just this inexplicable feeling, when you find that person that completes you so well.” She sighed. “I got married so young, and most of my family was against it. They didn’t think he was good for me—too serious, too stoic. But that’s what’s _good_ about him! He makes up for what I lack. I need someone a little more…grounded,” she finished with a giggle and a wave of her hand.

Itachi hummed.

Maria’s gaze softened a little bit. “What about you? Does Kisame make you feel that way?”

Itachi looked at nothing in particular. “Kisame makes me feel…a lot of things.”

Maria leaned a head in her hand. “I know it’s still early in your relationship but…I knew early. I knew that I loved Alec exceptionally strongly only a few months in.”

Itachi stiffened a little, staring holes into the scone in front of him.

“Itachi?” Maria prodded. After a second or two of silence, “Itachi, are you in love with him?”

A beat.

“Yeah.” He looked up, biting the smile on his lip. “I’m in love with him.”

Maria didn’t squeal like Itachi expected. These past few minutes she was actually uncharacteristically _calm_. He appreciated it, because he felt like a cat being sprayed with water all the sudden. One of her token squeals might cause him to jump right out of his chair.

“It’s a lot more terrifying that you think it’s gonna be, huh? I’m such a romantic; I thought falling in love was going to be all singing choirs and butterflies and warm fuzzy feelings. It wasn’t. It was me crying in my bathroom at three in the morning and hopping around from foot to foot.”

“I haven’t done that yet,” Itachi replied absently.

Maria smiled. “That’s good. I was a mess.” She took a thoughtful bite of a tea cake. “Have you told him?”

Itachi shook his head, pouring himself some more tea to warm his cup up.

“Why not?”

Itachi fidgeted a little. “Because I still don’t understand it. And I don’t like not understanding things.” He sighed a little, looking up at Maria’s giggle. “And also because I don’t know what he thinks, or feels. We’ve already been going slowly, I have no problem waiting a little longer to figure things out.”

“Love is kind of like a tightrope, huh?” Maria smiled wistfully. “It can be scary, if you don’t know if the person you love is there to catch you if you fall.”

Itachi chuckled. “Well, that’s one way of seeing it.”

Maria leaned forward on her hands. “Can I give you some advice you didn’t ask for? If it’s not too bold?”

“Go on ahead.” He picked a scone apart between his fingers.

“In my experience…it’s worth risking it to be in love, you know? Even if it’s scary.”

Itachi hummed, slipping his finger through the teacup handle. “Yes, I agree. I don’t regret anything.”

Maria beamed. “That’s wonderful.”

A pretty girl with bubble gum pink hair threw herself into Maria’s chair. “How dare you say hi to Ino and not me!”

Maria giggled. “I was going to, I swear!” She wrapped her arms around Sakura’s waist. “Sakura, meet my new friend, Itachi.”

Itachi gave a little wave.

“Good to meet you,” Sakura chirped, stealing a scone off of Maria’s plate. “How is Alec?”

“Alec is wonderful, that hasn’t changed and never will. Oh! Tell me about what happened last Thursday! You never explained what that text meant!”

“Oh, oh, oh! Ino and I were coming home from a date when we found a shoebox of kittens. It was duct taped shut, does that just make you _furious_? If I found the low life that did that to those poor animals….”

“Well, are they okay?”

“Yes, yes,” Sakura assured, taking another cookie. “They are all currently living with Ino and I. You and Alec wouldn’t be in the market for cute little gray and black kittens, are you?”

“Aw, no. But if they’re cute enough, I might be able to convince Alec!” She turned to Itachi. “Do you want to adopt a kitten?”

“Ah, unfortunately I wouldn’t be able to take a kitten at the moment.”

“Aw, that’s a shame.” Maria looked like she was thinking. “Oh! What about Kisame? Would he like a kitten?”

Itachi shook his head. “No, Kisame isn’t a fan of kittens, or cats, for that matter.”

“Break up with him,” Sakura said bluntly.

Itachi’s eyebrows shot up his forehead.

“Sakura, no,” Maria scolded, slapping her arm playfully.

“Who doesn’t like cats!? There has to be something wrong with him!”

“ _Sakura_.”

“Fine!” She turned to Itachi. “I apologize, there is nothing wrong with your boyfriend.”

Itachi tilted his head, slightly confused, something of a smile making its way onto his face.

Maria and Sakura took off with the conversation at that point, chatting animatedly about things that Itachi could barely keep up with. He didn’t mind in the slightest, just hearing them talk. He wasn’t much of a talker to begin with, he quite enjoyed listening to them and staying silent.

“Well,” Sakura eventually sighed, “I should probably get back to work. You know, what I get paid for.” She kissed Maria’s cheek, pushing herself to her feet. “It was nice to meet you, Itachi! Come back anytime, we always favor friends.” She left them with a wink and wave before returning to her flower shop.

“I should actually get going, too,” Itachi said.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I ate so much of our time up with Sakura,” Maria said sadly.

“You’re just fine,” Itachi promised. “I really enjoyed myself. Thank you for coming with me, especially on such late notice.”

“Oh, any time! I had so much fun. Do you promise me you’ll call once Kisame returns? So we can double date?”

“I promise,” Itachi said sincerely, standing up.

Maria bounced into his arms for a last hug after they left the shop. “Call me anytime you want to talk, I mean it.”

“I’ll remember that,” Itachi hummed.

He waited until he saw Maria get in his car and start to drive away before he headed towards the bus stop.

\--

“Scoot over,” Itachi mumbled, climbing onto the bed next to Sasuke.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m lonely and I miss my boyfriend.” Itachi sniffed, pulling the covers over him, and tried to nuzzle his way under Sasuke’s arm. “I don’t wanna sleep alone.”

“Nii-san—” Sasuke broke off with a laugh, relenting as Itachi nudged his head to rest on Sasuke’s chest. “Is this all I am? A replacement boyfriend?” He wasn’t complaining in actuality, though, not really. A couple months ago, Itachi wouldn’t even ask for something like this.

“Yep.” Itachi readjusted his head and closed his eyes, humming when he felt Sasuke’s arm press to his back.

“Two weeks without him and you’re already helpless.” Sasuke snorted. “At least you’re halfway through the month.” He patted his back with faux reassurance. “You’re halfway there.”

“Kisame decided to stay another week, so no, I am not halfway there,” Itachi grumbled.

Sasuke scolded, “You’re becoming codependent.”

“I am not. I’m just—” Itachi stopped suddenly, stiffening slightly against his brother. “I’m just….” He lifted his head up, twisting around and supporting himself on an elbow so he could look Sasuke in the eye. “I’m in love with him. A lot.”

Sasuke stared at him for a second. “Hm,” he eventually grunted.

“More than I ever loved Marcus,” he added.

“You _better_.”

Itachi hummed, settling back down. “I know it frightens you, but Kisame’s so…he’s just….”

“That’s bad,” Sasuke muttered.

“Hm?”

“When you don’t even have words? That’s when you know you’re fucked.”

Itachi smiled.

“I…” Sasuke started, shifting a little, one hand curling around Itachi’s arm. “I, you can, I don’t want you to think—fuck.” He let out a sharp breath, frustrated with his lack of words. “‘You have my blessing.’” he finished lamely. “Not to sound cheesy.”

Itachi’s fingers, which had been pressing the Viennese Waltz into Sasuke’s shirt, stilled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he grunted. “You haven’t been this happy since…fuck, Nii-san, I don’t think you’ve been this happy since before Mom and Dad died. And you’re…getting healthier, exponentially so since you started dating him. He’s _good_ for you. And I know that, and I’m not going to try to ruin that for you. I have to trust you, right?” He slid one hand up to Itachi’s hair. “But—if he does hurt you, I _will_ kill him.”

“I know,” Itachi hummed affectionately. “I really don’t think he will.”

Sasuke was quiet. “Have you told him?”                                                     

“No.”

“Why not?”

Itachi shrugged a little. “That would make it awkward, if I confess to him and he can’t say it back. That would be awful. I’d rather just be patient and wait to see how things play out.”

“You don’t think he loves you back?” Sasuke asked.

Itachi shook his head, and Sasuke could _feel_ the sadness in just that tiny little movement. “No.”

Sasuke frowned. “Why not?” His voice was defensive.

Itachi snorted. “No need to get angry, he has no obligation to be in love with me.”

“But why don’t you think he feels the same way?”

Itachi sighed. “You know me; I always fall in love too quickly, I always get emotional before I need to.” He pillowed his head better on Sasuke’s chest. “My heart is always before my head. Kisame’s probably just not there yet, that’s all.”

Sasuke was quiet for a moment. Itachi was already in so deeply, he was already set up for heartbreak. And now Sasuke felt tired again. Even though Kisame wasn’t a scumbag like some of Itachi’s other boyfriends, he had Itachi’s entire heart in his massive hand. It was too easy now to hurt him. And that wasn’t his _fault_ , Sasuke knew that logically—even if his heart was screaming something else—but the thought of Itachi ending up in pain again drained every drop of energy from his entire being.

Sasuke tapped his fingers. “Okay. Well. Just make sure that, when the time comes—make sure that you don’t conflate love and sex, you know? Especially for him.”

Itachi chuckled. “That’s not a problem.”

“What do you mean?” Sasuke asked suspiciously.

“We haven’t had sex, Sasuke.”

Sasuke blinked. “Really?”

“Really,” Itachi drawled.

“Nothing? Not even a little?”

“Nothing. I don’t think he’s even seen me with my shirt off.”

Sasuke stared at the ceiling. “Wow. I’m impressed and surprised.”

“You have no faith in me, Otouto. It wounds me so.”

“Shut up,” Sasuke said with a snort. “How come, though? Not that I’m _complaining_ , it’s just that the two of you seem very…touchy.” He sounded a hair uncomfortable. “I assume you’re attracted to him like that?”

“We are. I am.” He nuzzled a little more into Sasuke’s chest. “But I wanted to do this right, so I promised myself way back when we first started dating that I wouldn’t do anything with him until he told me that he loved me.” A gusty sigh was blown over Sasuke’s shirt. “I haven’t given in yet.”

“And will you?”

“If he doesn’t confess soon, I don’t know what I’ll do,” Itachi muttered.

Sasuke laughed. “Just make sure you’re indoors.”

“Obviously.” I picked at the hem of Sasuke’s shirt. “I’m proud of you.”

“Proud of me?”

“You were able to calmly talk to me about my sex life without bursting into flames.”

“Yeah, well. If it makes you happy, it’s not something worth fighting.”

“Thank you.” Itachi’s voice was satisfied and warm. “We’re getting better, little brother. Do you see? We’re getting so much better. That makes me happier than anything else in the world could.”

Sasuke pressed a hand tight to his back. “Yeah. Everything’s getting better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw Ita bean's in love. 
> 
> How cute. 
> 
> This just in: Itachi doesn't know about the daddy kink. shhhh don't tell him he'll freak out.
> 
> Also, can you guess what Itachi wanted to say when he said, "I....I...." BECAUSE LMAO  
>  ~~he wanted to say i love you~~
> 
> Itachi's an uchiha, so he falls hard and intenselly. Kisame's a little slower when it comes to love. Let's see if he has anything to say to Itachi any time soon....
> 
> I tried to describe Itachi's situation as close as I'm familiar with it? I'm not writing it off as clinical depression, I just...don't know another word for it lol. 
> 
> Also I looked it up and those spoons really are called 'Chinese Soup Spoons.' I'm well aware that pho is vietnamese lmao. 
> 
> Okay so Maria? I just like her. I don't know. She was a spontaneous addition in chapter two and I never thought she would come back but then. She did? I usually don't take to OCs in fanfiction but I just couldn't think of a character who would fit right for what I wanted Maria to be? So idk there she is. Also this is very devoid of girls and I wanted a girl in here. (And Itachi as 0 (zero) canon female friends so. throws maria at him.)
> 
> ALSO InoSaku because 1) girls 2) I think a joint pastry-flower shop is cute as fuck? I really like Ino, also. If I had any emotion towards Sakura I would probably write InoSaku (unfortunately I don't like Sakura enough to bother characterizing her so :( no InoSaku)
> 
> srry, i know that the conversation with maria kind of...ended up going no where? i had many different plans in a lot of different ways and none of them worked out so...it kind of became a pointless scene. never the less i wanted it. adfkljajksh
> 
> More ItaSasu bonding because m y c h i l d r e n. 
> 
> I know a lot of you were probably expecting some blow out scene between Kisame and Sasuke, but I never intended to write that. Sasuke's gonna be a brat for a little while, yeah, but he's trying to accept Kisame. Part of the reason he's acting so 'soft' is because of what Kisame did after they fought last chapter. 
> 
> Next chapter you find out basically everything about Itachi. THAT TOOK A LONG TIME MY BAD. (the next chapter is going to be really long i think so there might be part 1 and 2 idk :0)
> 
> I will see you again as soon as I get my shit together. stay beautiful my children. 
> 
> p.s. comments make me update 1000x faster. if you think this is slow. you have no idea how slow i can go. when i get whiny about a chapter i reread all the comments. every one. since the first chapter. i usually force myself to post because im starving for more.
> 
> LOVE YOU LOVE YOU SEE YOU NEXT CHAPTER


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slams my head into a wall
> 
> so much for bi-monthly updates am i right
> 
>  
> 
> _I'm sorry_
> 
>  
> 
> say hello to my longest chapter yet! Officially longer than chapter two. I never thought I would surpass that mess. wow. 
> 
> It's nearly double my page/word count minimum! So who know's how the hell that happened. Well...enjoy?
> 
> The good news is this chapter is wildly boring. 
> 
> just kidding, that's not good news at all. despite all odds, i become an even shittier author with each chapter. 
> 
> **Okay, but be serious with me for a second.** There's some discussion in this chapter about emotional/sexual abuse and rape. Nothing explicit or graphic, though, pretty much something you could find in a textbook. Never the less, I don't want anyone to be unprepared. If you're trying to avoid it, it's the very last scene where it takes place. (though I must admit, that scene is kind of important.)
> 
> ALSO. Itachi's opinions and beliefs do not necessarily reflect my own personal opinions and beliefs. If anything he says makes you upset, do take it up with him, not me. :P Additionally, he's very biased by his own self-hatred. 
> 
> AIGHT THAT'S THAT. 
> 
> They make out a lot in this chapter lol. 
> 
> This chapter is also actually kind of fucking corny and cheesy. Shrugs into the next dimension. I kind of like to think that the right person could make Kisame a little sappy. 
> 
> Also be prepared to read fucking pages of dialogue. Is that a good thing? Do people like that? Shit. 
> 
> There are seedlings to a plot this chapter. see if you can spot them. 
> 
> I am trying to make this a little longer, maybe. add a semblance of a plot since i...didn't actually have one before. it was literally 100% domestic shit. now it's 98% domestic garbage (I say lovingly, as it's all i indulge in these days) and 2% drama.
> 
> uhhhh we'll see how this plays out. I tend to just make everything really over dramatic so. 
> 
> ????
> 
> Anyways enjoy the chapter!

_Loved ones decompose, we’ll dance around their bones! Most of us are holy ghosts, all of us are holy ghosts!”_

Itachi wrinkled his nose. The speaker in Suigetsu’s car was vibrating from strain, an unfortunate rattle resonating from the door. The audio would mute out during particularly loud parts. It didn’t exactly help that he wasn’t a fond of…this…screaming.

Itachi was a little worried that Suigetsu wouldn’t be able to drive safely while banging his head like that but—well, he was already in for the ride.

“There,” he instructed, pointing towards the off ramp, “exit there.”

“Thanks, Siri,” Suigetsu grinned, not bothering to turn his blinker on as he moved over a lane.

Itachi frowned. Suigetsu sped down the exit lane, a little too fast for Itachi’s taste. He found himself more than once pressing his foot into the floor of the passenger side, as if he could brake the car himself. “Turn left onto Magnolia.”                                                                                                  

“How do you know the directions so well?” Suigetsu asked. Itachi’s heart filled with joy as he turned the music down.

“I merely studied the map and directions,” he replied, slightly absently, as he stared out the window.

He was anxious. _Eager_. Because he hadn’t seen Kisame in almost two damn months. And now he was only a few minutes from being able to _see_ him again. And touch him, and smell him. And kiss him.

Absence really did make the heart grow fonder. He had spent so much time with Kisame, had nearly twenty-four seven access to him on his phone. It made him take for granted the little things Kisame did that he couldn’t get enough of. The way he touched his hair, fitting it into place behind his ear or running his fingers through the ends. The deep rumble in Kisame chest when he let out a sleepy chuckle. The way their fingers fit together when they held hands.

Itachi had cycled through all of the sweatshirts he had stolen from his boyfriend. They didn’t smell like him anymore.

His heart was throwing a tantrum.

Suigetsu drove under an overpass as instructed, and Itachi smiled when he saw the street sign for Hickory Avenue.

“The airport is right off of this road. Look for the JetBlue lane.”

The time difference between the states and Upolu was—confusing. When he googled ‘what time is it in Upolu’ and saw that the clock was only a few hours ahead of his current time, he thought it wasn’t so bad. But then he noticed that the date read the _next day_. It still wasn’t terribly hard to talk, but it’s just wasn’t the same.

Suigetsu’s phone buzzed, and Itachi snatched it before Suigetsu could even think about texting and driving. “He’s waiting outside,” he informed him, not able to hide the excitement in his voice.

“You gonna surprise him?” Suigetsu asked.

“How?”

Suigetsu slowed the car down, swerving dangerously towards the curb. “Get out here and you can meet us up there where I’ll stop.”

Itachi hopped out while the car was still moving—since there was no way Suigetsu was planning on stopping (and it was probably safer that he didn’t)—and began slowly weaving his way through the scattered people and towards the terminal. There were a handful of couples hugging as they were reunited, and his heart pricked a little.

He saw Kisame, two bags at his side, sitting on a bench, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees. Itachi paused there in the peripheral, watching as he waved to Suigetsu and stood up. They did the highfive-fistbump-chestbump thing Kisame always greeted his cousins with. Itachi quietly approached him from the back. Suigetsu made brief eye contact with him, immediately engaging Kisame in conversation to keep him distracted.

“So how was your trip, man?” Itachi heard Suigetsu ask, patting Kisame’s arm roughly a couple times.

“It was good. I’m glad I got to be with my family.”

“You go surfing?”

Kisame nearly moaned. “ _Oh_ , I went surfing. I swear—”

Itachi took that moment to tap him on the shoulder.

Kisame turned around, a mild mix of annoyance and confusion on his face. Itachi was gifted with the most _comical_ expression he had ever seen Kisame wear, all shock and surprise and—

“ _Itachi_?”

Itachi smiled a little, unable to help the bubbling little well of happiness in his chest. “Hi.”

“I thought—you said that—you’re supposed to be working—”

Itachi couldn’t remember ever seeing Kisame so flustered and confused. He enjoyed it immensely. “I know. A coworker owed me a favor and picked up my shift.” He tilted his head. “Are you not happy to see me?”

Kisame suddenly broke out into a huge grin, and the next thing Itachi knew he was crushed against Kisame’s broad chest. “I was going to force Suigetsu to drop my by your work so I could see you.” He pressed the words into Itachi’s hair between kisses. “Holy _shit_ , Itachi, I missed you so much.”

Itachi hummed, content with the vice of Kisame’s arms.

“We were in the middle of a conversation, cousin,” Suigetsu said from the side.

“You don’t matter anymore,” Kisame muttered, grabbing Itachi’s chin and tilting his head up for a kiss.

Suigetsu snorted. “Alright, love birds, get the fuck in the car. I’m gonna get a ticket if I stay parked here too much longer.”

Itachi was just barely able to pry Kisame’s face away from his own. They quickly loaded Kisame’s bags into the trunk and hopped into the back seats. Kisame immediately pulled Itachi into his arms, sucking the purplish ring of a hickey into Itachi’s neck as Suigetsu pulled away from the curb.

Now, Itachi wasn’t really one for PDA. So, maybe it could be attributed to the month they spent apart, but Itachi’s resolve flew out the window, and he found himself half lying on the seat, pressed up against the door, Kisame gripping onto him so tightly he was nearly light headed. Kisame had one hand underneath Itachi’s shirt, grasping there at the skin stretched around his hipbone, and Itachi threaded his fingers into Kisame’s hair and tugged, trying so very hard to not make any noise as Kisame kissed the living daylights out of him.

Suigetsu started laughed, and when Itachi managed to open his eyes and peer to the side, he saw Suigetsu with one hand on the wheel, the other holding a phone in the air.

“I’m snapchatting this all to Sasuke, you know.”

Kisame’s tongue did something very slick against his, and Itachi couldn’t find the will to care.

“Missed you,” he murmured between kisses, sliding his hands to either side of Kisame’s face.

Kisame grunted in agreement; his lips otherwise stayed occupied.

Eventually Itachi pushed Kisame away, running a hand over his hair and licking his lips. Kisame begrudgingly moved into a sitting position, only with the constituent that Itachi followed suit and stayed pressed tight up against his side.

“You got darker,” Itachi murmured, eyes and fingers tracing the swells and dips of the muscles on Kisame’s arm.

“The sun tends to do that,” Kisame snickered. “You like that? My skin darker?”

Itachi hummed, unwilling to give anything away. “I like you just the way you are, whatever that may be.”

“My muscles got bigger, too. Can you tell?”

“Such a show off.” Oh, how Itachi missed that grin. He tucked himself into Kisame’s chest. “Tell me about your trip.”

“What do you want to know?”

 _Everything_. Itachi hesitated. “Well—how did the funeral go?”

“Ah.” Kisame rubbed slow circled into Itachi’s back. “It was really good to happen. It still hurts, but I think my aunt healed a lot.”

Itachi nodded, kissing the base of Kisame’s neck, right at the hollow. “Of course. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, baby.”

“Did you have any fun?”

Kisame grinned. “Hell yeah. Food, surfing, sun…the only thing I was missing was a something pretty to play with at night.” He winked.

“Thank you for staying faithful despite my absence,” Itachi replied dryly, one corner of his lips tilting up.

Kisame laughed loudly and tightened the hold around his waist. “I’m only joking, of course.”

“I know.”

“What about you? What have you been up to?”

Itachi looked up thoughtfully at the ceiling of the car. “I made a new friend,” he offered.

“New friend?” Kisame’s hand gave a sharp squeeze to his middle. “Yeah?”

Itachi hummed. “Do you remember the date I took you on?”

“Of course I do. I almost threw up that night.”

Itachi’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Threw up?”

“Yeah, I was excited as hell that you were initiating a date. And I was nervous.”

“You had no reason to be nervous,” Itachi murmured softly, pointer finger brushing down the length of Kisame’s nose.

“’Course I did. I think you underestimate exactly how smitten I was.”

Itachi quirked an eyebrow. “Was?”

“And still am, of course. I’ve just done a rather good job wooing you,” a wink, “and I’m not worried about you taking off right now.”

“Wow, a lot has changed since you left. Looks like I won’t be needing to feed you bacon any time soon.” Itachi kissed his nose. “I’m glad.”

Kisame chuckled. “I still expect the bacon. Anyways, you didn’t finish telling me who your friend was?”

“Oh. Right. Well, do you remember the couple we met there?”

“Vaguely…?”

“Maria, the wife, gave me her number that night.”

Kisame faked an outraged expression. “You took another woman’s number on a date with me? And here my loyalty is in question.”

Itachi rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to cover his smile—there was no point hiding it from Kisame anymore. “It was to her work.”

“And what took you so long to call her?”

Itachi shrugged. “I just never thought of it.”

Kisame chuckled. “What could have possibly made you think of it?”

“Perhaps your absence.”

“Well, regardless, I’m glad you made friends.”

“Good, because I promised her a double date.”

Kisame tugged on Itachi’s arms, coaxing him in closer. “With that stoic guy? I look forward to it.”

Itachi settled into his chest, turning his head to the side to kiss his neck.

“Are you lovebirds almost done? I’m gonna vomit all over the windshield.”

“Sorry that you don’t have a girlfriend,” Kisame snarked, threading his fingers in between Itachi’s.

“Hey. I can get it whenever I want,” Suigetsu defended.

Itachi rolled his eyes.

“I saw that, pretty boy. What are you implying?!” He glared back at him through the rear view mirror.

“Why don’t you keep your eyes on the road, Suigetsu,” Itachi sighed.

He very begrudgingly complied.

Itachi and Kisame made absent conversation as Suigetsu sped down the highway. Itachi kept his fingers in between Kisame’s, or had them trace the curve of his jaw or nose. Kisame wouldn’t take his eyes off of him, often leaning forward to kiss his face, hair, or neck.

“Damn, I’m fuckin’ starved,” Kisame muttered eventually, looking out the window as signs for fast food restaurants passed by.

“Have you not eaten?”

A snort. “Just plane food. So, yeah, basically nothing.” He pressed his lips again to Itachi’s hair. “Shit, I totally emptied my fridge before I left, too.”

“Do you want to run through a drive through?” Suigetsu asked. “Also, whose house am I heading back to first?”

“Ah, I don’t want to slow Itachi down—”

“I have an idea,” Itachi interrupted, turning around in Kisame’s arms to look at him.

Kisame raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“Come over to my place…?”

Kisame tilted his head. “I mean, I love the offer, but I know you have work and—”

“And you won’t interfere with it. You don’t have any food at your house, and you’re jetlagged. Just rest at my house for a little while.”

Kisame narrowed his eyes a little. “And how long is ‘a little while?’”

Itachi shrugged, doing to his best to act blasé. “A day or two.”

Kisame grinned slowly. “Do you really care about my sleep schedule, or did you just miss me that much?”

“I’m not saying I didn’t miss you.” He tugged on the neckline of Kisame’s shirt a little bit. “I’m partially worried that you won’t take care of yourself the right way.”

“You want to take care of me.” That grin wasn’t going anywhere.

Itachi shrugged a little, but his eyes had a fleck of mischief in them.

Kisame sobered up enough to look at him seriously for a moment. “Are you sure you won’t mind?”

“Very.” Itachi brushed some hair over his shoulder. “It’s only a few days. Besides, I think Sasuke’s sick of me crawling in bed with him every other night.”

“Okay, so am I going to fucking Wendy’s or not?” Suigetsu demanded, hovering in the exit lane.

“Just head to my place, Suigetsu.” He squeezed Kisame’s hand happily. “Thank you again for driving us, it is very considerate of you.”

“I should get fuckin’ paid for all this chauffeuring shit.”

“Then become a taxi driver,” Kisame retorted. “We get a friends and family discount, 100% off.”

Suigetsu rolled his eyes in the rear view mirror for them to see.

Ten minutes later and Suigetsu was pulling into the parking lot to Itachi’s apartment, the radio once again on full blast. Kisame had his hands over Itachi’s ears.

“Thank you, Suigetsu, for your stellar taxi service,” Kisame started as he opened the door. “As always, I regret it.”

Suigetsu snorted, waving a hand.

Kisame barely got his bags out of the trunk and shut the lid before he was speeding off.

“Kisame, he’s going to seriously hurt himself driving one day.”

Kisame grinned. “Nah. He acts like an idiot, but I think he’ll be fine.”

Itachi wasn’t quite convinced.

“What do you think Sasuke’s gonna say when he sees me waltzing into your apartment?” Kisame asked, picking his bags up.

“I’d guess nothing,” Itachi replied, helping Kisame by slinging his backpack over his arm. “Either way, you’re not going to let Sasuke scare you away now, are you?”

“Nope.” He was grinning again.

Sasuke didn’t say _nothing_ , but Itachi was pleased with how gracious he acted. Maybe he was even a little relieved that Itachi wouldn’t be quite so annoying about missing him all day long anymore. He even helped lug all the bags into Itachi’s room.

When Sasuke left the room, Itachi quite predictably ended up crushed underneath Kisame in the mess of sheets on his bed, hips fitted together perhaps a little _too_ well. Itachi was all but moaning as Kisame bit and sucked a pattern of hickeys into the skin about his collar bones and neck. Kisame’s hands somehow felt _hotter_ than he remembered, and they gripped his hips and waist and arms so tightly Itachi thought he might pass out.

It was intoxicating, for too intoxicating for Itachi to handle with any sense of right mind. And suddenly it just wasn’t _enough_ , just kissing and touching and being close. It wasn’t _nearly_ enough, not when he loved him so much, not when he had missed him so much, and Itachi guessed it wouldn’t be enough until he could feel skin on skin, until Kisame was bare to him and moving on him and over him and _in_ him and—

He shifted his hips up, grinding them only barely into Kisame’s. One hand pushed under his shirt and jerked it up until it got caught between their two bodies, hand snagged in the material as Kisame responded to his movement.

Itachi had to bite into his bottom lip once Kisame grinded down into the cradle of Itachi’s hips with slow, sure motions. His eyes fluttered closed, lips parting. His legs fell open wider, giving Kisame more room to do _that._ He was about to try and work his shirt off when a sudden rush of cold air whooshed over him. He blinked up at the ceiling and pushed himself up with his elbows.

“No, no, no,” Kisame moaned into the floor, face down on his stomach.

“…Kisame?”

“We can’t.”

“What?” Itachi was still slightly dazed.

“We can’t…do any of that.”

Itachi blinked. “What?” he repeated.

“I just got back, and we’re both hyper emotional and—I bet 100 bucks if we do anything, you’ll regret it later.” His words were a little muffled since his face was still smooshed against the floor. “I’m not letting that happen.”

Itachi sat up, folding his legs under him. Kisame was…right, and as his head cleared, he began to fully grasp that. He still was holding on to the deal he made with himself that he wasn’t going to snag their relationship before he _knew_ they were in love. And he was certain that if they _did_ have sex, he would definitely regret it.

“Hey,” he started, staring at Kisame’s back. “Are you going to come back here?”

“No.”

“And why would that be?”

“Because I just turned down having sex with you, and now I kinda just wanna lay on the floor for the rest of my life.”

Itachi laughed a little. “Come back here.”

Kisame stayed horizontal, but turned his head to look at him. “You’re going to tempt me, aren’t you?”

“No,” Itachi laughed even louder. “I just want to be close to you for a second.”

“Only a second?”

“Many, many seconds. But I only have so many before I have to get to work, so would you please stand up and come over here already?”

With a gusty sigh, Kisame pushed himself to his feet and plopped himself down on the bed next to Itachi. “What were you thinking, trying to have sex when you’re about to run off for work?”

Itachi pushed stray hair behind Kisame’s ear. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”

Kisame pulled him back into his arms, unable to resist the contact. “For the sake of my sanity, could you do me the favor of thinking next time?”

Itachi laughed. “Yes, I will. I promise.” After a moment, and a very tiny bit of nuzzling, Itachi pulled back to look him in the eyes. “You are very good to me,” he said quietly.

“’Course I am,” Kisame grunted, gaze slanting down away from Itachi and toward the floor. “You’re my boyfriend, and you’re special to me. I’m gonna treat you right. You know that.” He kissed the side of his head on his hair.

Itachi thought that there was one particular way to say that in fewer words.

Looks like he would have to keep waiting.

“You really do look tired,” he commented, gently brushing a finger under Kisame’s eyes. “Why don’t you sleep?”

Kisame rubbed his hand over his hair a couple times. “Can I shower first? I feel like the airport.”

“Of course. You remember where the bathroom is, yes?”

Kisame nodded, standing up and stretching his arms above his head.

“Your toothbrush is in a drawer off to the right. I put a label on it. And there’s towels over the bar on the wall.”

Kisame chuckled. “So considerate.” He knelt down next to his suitcase to rummage up a clean pair of clothes to wear as Itachi slipped out of the room and toward the kitchen.

While Kisame showered, Itachi dug through the fridge to find something for Kisame to eat. He managed to find some frozen waffles and hamburger patties.

He wasn’t one hundred percent sure what he was supposed to do with that.

He heard Kisame come out of the bathroom and returned to his bedroom. “You’re still hungry, yes?” He asked. Kisame had done him the favor of wearing real clothes instead of just a towel, which saved him from having to stare.

“Is there food?” Kisame countered.

“Hamburger and waffles. You can make some sort of chicken and waffles spin off with it?”

Kisame chuckled, rubbing a towel over his head. “Maybe I’ll separate them?”

“That might be a good idea,” Itachi agreed quietly. His eyes flicked over Kisame’s body.

Kisame jerked his chin up at him. “What do you want?”

“Hm?”

“You look like you want something,” Kisame clarified.

“Just you.”

A grin. “I’ve got plenty of that,” Kisame chuckled, sidling up next to him, hands immediately heading to Itachi’s ass.

Itachi hummed, taking the initiative for a kiss, and let his finger map out the swells of Kisame’s biceps. When they were thoroughly familiarized, he slipped his hands underneath Kisame’s shirt.

His skin was invitingly hot.

“Are you thinking?” Kisame murmured before sucking Itachi’s bottom lip into his mouth.

Itachi chuckled, planting one last kiss to Kisame’s mouth before pulling away. “Yes. Are you?”

“Not when you touch me like that, no.”

Itachi snorted, reaching for his hand. “What are you going to do when we actually have sex?”

“Short circuit and die.”

“Please don’t.”

Kisame squeezed his hand and grinned.

Itachi had to look away from his eyes, lest he stop thinking again. “Did you want that chicken and waffles knock off?”

Kisame grinned. “I’ll take the hamburger now, if you’re offering. Just so that we’re clear, if I’m staying here, I’ll be giving you money to buy groceries.”

“That’s fair,” Itachi conceded lightly. He peaked around Kisame at the suitcase before letting go of his hand and walking towards it. “I can do your laundry if you want,” he began, kneeling down and thumbing through some of his shirts.

“Uh—” Kisame knelt down suddenly, grabbing both of Itachi’s hands. “I’ll sort through this; I’ll know what’s already been cleaned and what’s dirty.”

Itachi blinked. “Alright. I’ll go heat up something for you to eat. Put your dirty clothes in the laundry room at the end of the hall.

Kisame kissed his cheek.

Itachi had two hamburger patties grilling on a pan when Kisame came back into the kitchen, bare chested, wearing only sweatpants.

“Are you ever going to put on clothes, or do you plan on wandering around my house naked your whole stay?” Itachi asked in murmur.

Kisame chuckled. “Why? Does it bother you?”

“Define ‘bother.’”

Kisame grinned, coming up behind Itachi and grabbing him around the waist. He kissed his neck. “It smells good. I’m proud of you for not burning this.” he jerked his head towards the skillet.

Itachi sighed. “I do believe that those jokes stopped being funny a little while ago,” Itachi murmured, turning the gas off and moving the patties onto a plate. He set it on the table and got the potatoes out of the microwave.

“Did they? I must have missed that memo.”

He let Kisame eat, heading to the laundry room to take care of the laundry. There wasn’t a _lot_ , but it was enough to keep him busy for a few minutes. He heard the water turn on in the kitchen and rushed out to take Kisame’s dirty dishes from him. “I’ll take care of it,” he assured. “You rest.”

Kisame raised an eyebrow. “I do know basic adult functions, babe. I’ve been taking care of myself my entire adult life.”

“I know,” Itachi replied lightly, rinsing his plate off. “But I want you to rest. Your toothbrush is in the bathroom.”

“You’re going to be doing dishes almost all night at the restaurant,” he argued.

“So what’s one more?”

Kisame stared at him for a moment before sighing and exiting the kitchen.

Itachi smiled when he heard the bathroom door open.

The dishes cleaned and the table wiped down, Itachi quite nearly skipped his way back to his bedroom. He was feeling awfully happy and bubbly, Kisame living in his house, Kisame back home, safe and happy.

Kisame, passed out in his bed, blankets tangled around his legs.

Itachi smiled, flicking out the lights on the wall. He pulled an extra blanket from underneath his bed, gently spreading it over him so he wouldn’t get cold.

“Nii-san,” Sasuke said from the doorway. “Why aren’t you already gone? You know you’re gonna be late for work, right?”

Itachi turned around on a dime, smiling graciously as he walked towards the door. “I’ll be fine. I just wanted to make sure Kisame was comfortable.”

“He looks plenty comfortable to me,” Sasuke muttered, letting Itachi pass by him. “Remind me why he’s here, again, when he has a much bigger, fancier house than us?”

“Because I love him very much and want to take care of him.” Itachi patted Sasuke’s cheek. “Do attend to him when he wakes up, baby brother.”

Sasuke sighed, casting Kisame one last glance before closing the door. He’d forgotten how demanding ‘in-love’ Itachi was.

\--

Kisame pushed the door of Itachi’s bedroom open with a massive yawn. Checking his phone, he saw that Itachi should be getting off work about now. He hadn’t meant to sleep so long—he must have been more tired than he thought.

He was in the kitchen checking for those waffles Itachi promised—he was going to go buy Itachi groceries since he was staying over, anyways. They were in the toaster, syrup readied on the counter, when he noticed the picture frame sitting on the counter.

It was of Itachi’s parents.

Sasuke and he weren’t in it like the one in Itachi’s room. In fact—it looked like it could be a wedding photo, maybe. The woman had beautiful black hair, all done up with white flowers. The man was wearing black Japanese robes—shit, Kisame knew he had read the name of it somewhere. Kimono, or Yukata or— _something_ like that. Kisame told himself he would look it up later.

“That was taken on their wedding day,” a voice said from the hallway.

Kisame’s head snapped up. Ah, so he was right.

“Your parents were beautiful,” Kisame said honestly.

“They were,” Sasuke agreed.

“What were their names?”

“Fugaku was my father, Mikoto my mother.”

“Mikoto,” Kisame sounded out. “That sounds lovely.”

“Almost as lovely as she was a mother.” He tapped his fingers against the wall. “Did Itachi tell you how it happened?”

“How what happened?”

“Their murders, of course.”

Kisame shook his head, a little shocked. Yeah, it had clearly been a while, but—he was still surprised that Sasuke was willing to tell him, or use such strong language.

Sasuke stepped into the room, gazing at the photo with Kisame. “Itachi was down the street doing yardwork for a family—it was how he made money back then, he mowed lawns and cut hedges and shit. My dad made him pay for all his own things, but my mom used to slip him twenties in his laundry to help him out.” A fond smile twitched at his lips for a moment. “I was late at school for a martial arts class. I got home later than normal because my classmate, who was giving me a ride home, got his backpack locked up in a classroom, and his mom had to track down the janitor to unlock the room.”

Sasuke didn’t say anything for a moment. “They accused Itachi of murder, originally, you know.”

Kisame nearly blanched. “What?”

“When I got home, all the lights were off in the house. I knew something was wrong, because my mom couldn’t stand it when the house was dark. I walked into the living room and…there was blood all over the floor, and my mom and dad were slumped over each other. It stuck with me for so long, how they looked. It wasn’t a random killing, they were executed, lined up next to each other on their knees and then shot like they were prisoners.” Sasuke took the photo out of Kisame’s hands and set it back on the table. “Itachi was standing over them, and he had blood on his hands and on his clothes. I started screaming, but he just stood there, blank-faced.”

Kisame stared.

The toaster dinged.

“Someone reported the gunshots, apparently, because that was about when the police showed up. I was screaming for Itachi, but he wouldn’t move, and the police handcuffed him and put him in a different car than me. They questioned me about Itachi, and why I thought he would kill them. I tried telling them that he didn’t do it, but they wouldn’t believe me. Itachi was spit up through the legal system for almost a year—”

“I don’t know if Itachi wants me to know this,” Kisame started.

Sasuke shrugged. “I’m only telling you my experiences. Besides, do you think I would betray my brother’s trust for—what, you?”

Kisame had to agree, even if it was a little backhanded. “Alright, then.”

“Anyways,” Sasuke continued, “my father had greatly offended our extended family in Japan before they left to America, so when the police contacted them about Itachi and the murders their only statement was ‘he probably did it,’ and then they dropped all contact.”

“Holy shit,” Kisame mumbled.

“After that Itachi got sent to Juvenile prison.”

Kisame stared at him. “Are you making this up.”

“I wish. He was there for three months. He was too young to be tried as an adult where we lived, so the plan was to lock him up until he _could_ be officially given a sentence of life in prison.”

“Why didn’t he tell them that he didn’t do it?”

Sasuke gave him an ‘are-you-stupid’ look. “He _did_ , but he was covered in my parents’ blood when the police found him, and he was fucked to all hell with trauma to form a decent defense for the first couple weeks. When he _did_ get his head clear, the police were already convinced that he did it.”

Kisame looked back at the photo. “How did he get out of prison?”

“Only a week after they sent my brother to juvie another murder happened the exact same way. Two sons in the family. The parents were killed with a single bullet through the head, like ours, and their bodies were found in the exact same position. Research into the case showed two other families were killed the same exact way since Itachi was detained, and digging about six months back they found out we weren’t the first. Three months later they caught the guy with help from the FBI. Some serial killer psychopath, they said. He was charged with all the murders and given the death penalty.”

Sasuke pushed hair behind his ear. “Because Itachi was a minor through all this, his name was never released, and any criminal record he could have had was permanently expunged by a judge before they could even properly form. So, legally, Itachi has an immaculate record despite it all. No record will show that Itachi was ever tried for murder or sent to jail, thank heaven.”

“Where were you when this all happened?”

“Foster home. They weren’t a bad family, but I was a little brat. I wanted Itachi, I wanted to live with him, not a bunch of strangers. When Itachi was finally released, they moved us to a children’s home for a year so we could be together while they tried to find a home for us. When he turned sixteen, we were entered into some program designed to help orphaned children, and an apartment was rented for us. We got a stipend for food and clothing every month; Itachi immediately got a job.” Sauske let out a little breath, leaning against the counter as he folded his arms. “We were finally _alone_ though, out of the system, and it finally felt like…we could restart our lives without the whole ordeal being thrown in our face. As soon as Itachi became eighteen he filed to be my legal guardian.”

Kisame took a deep breath, running a hand over his head. He didn’t know what to say.

“Itachi hasn’t really gotten a break since then,” Sasuke muttered.

“I kind of inferred that,” Kisame murmured.

Sasuke stared at the toaster for a second. He slumped away from the counter, snagging a plate out of the drawer, and tossing both waffles onto it. “Itachi’s kind of fucked up, and sometimes I want nothing more than to punch a hole through his chest. Because he’s my brother, and I love him more than anything else on this goddamned planet, yet he hates himself more than anyone else ever could.” Sasuke looked up to meet his eyes, an expression so serious set into the wrinkled in his forehead he looked five years older. “Do you know how fucking frustrating that is?”

“I’m beginning to,” Kisame muttered.

Sasuke looked at him for several seconds, his slow blinks calculating and searching. “Anyways, now you know. Whatever you do, just don’t pity him. He doesn’t like it, and neither do I.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He paused. “And, Sasuke?”

A raised eyebrow.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For…trusting me. For letting me into your brother’s life, for supporting him about it. Really.”

“Yeah, well,” Sasuke muttered, looking at the floor. “Who am I to get in the way of lo—” he snapped his mouth shut. “Itachi’s happy. You don’t seem like a complete piece of shit. What am I supposed to do?”

Kisame grinned a little. “Still. I appreciate the effort.”

“Yeah, well. Keep the jokes reigned in and you won’t be on such thin ice.”

Kisame laughed as Sasuke left back into the hallway, grabbing the syrup bottle and flipping the cap. “You’re a good guy, Sasuke,” he called after him.

He expected the lack of response.

After he ate—not very much, he was still hungry after, so he would be ready to eat if Itachi wanted to have dinner with him—and afterwards he felt a little useless. He poked around looking for something he could fix. There was one cabinet with an off kilter hinge, and since Kisame had just left his toolkit there before he left for Upolu, he settled down to work on it.

He ended up having to remove the entire door and reconnect it.

Sasuke came out of his room once and gave him kind of a weird look, but other than that seemed to be satisfied that he was making himself some sort of useful.

He was just greasing the hinge when he heard the shuffle of a key in the lock.

“Babe,” he greeted, great big grin on his face.

“What are you doing?” Itachi asked, tilting his head to the side as he closed the door behind him and took his shoes off. He headed to the kitchen, setting his keys down on the counter.

“I figured while you were gone I should do something to prove I’m not just mooching. I don’t want Sasuke throwing me out on my ass,” he joked, hopping off the counter and sliding his hands across Itachi’s hips. “How was work?”

“It was work,” Itachi answered, leaned forward for a kiss.

Kisame gladly complied.

“You didn’t need to get involved with the cupboard, there,” Itachi said after a few moments of kissing. “It really wasn’t a bother.”

“And it really wasn’t a bother to fix. Is there anything else that needs tampering with?”

“No, Kisame.”

“That’s alright. I’ll get the real list from Sasuke.”

Itachi glared a little.

Kisame grinned.

“Are you tired?” Itachi asked eventually.

“I actually kind of just woke up,” Kisame admitted, walking to the sink to wash his hands off.

“Your sleeping schedule is all messed up, now,” Itachi chastised, tugging on a lock of Kisame’s hair.

Kisame’s smile was lopsided. “Yeah.”

Itachi moved past him and to a drawer in the kitchen, pulling out coupons. “At least tell me you’re hungry. Brickoven pizza down the street has special pizza deals every week, and I have some coupons for them.”

He hummed. “Pizza? Yeah, I haven’t had that for a little while. Sounds great,” Kisame affirmed, coming up behind Itachi. He ran his hands over his shoulders, feeling the tightness due to stress and poor posture. “Remind me to give you a backrub sometime,” he grunted, kissing Itachi on the top of his head. “You’re tight—ah.” He closed his eyes, pressing his lips together so he wouldn’t laugh. “You’re muscles are tight.”

Itachi ignored it. “I’ll try to remember that,” he murmured, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Sasuke likes Hawaiian pizza, but you don’t like pineapple, do you.” He twisted his lips to the side, looking at the toppings he could get at a deal. “Does pepperoni and onion sound alright?”

Kisame let out a breath. “Anything that gets me out of pineapple sounds like heaven.”

Itachi laughed a little.

Kisame was slightly fidgety as Itachi ordered. He drummed his fingers along the tops of Itachi’s shoulder. “Babe?” He started, voice quieter than he intended.

“Hm?” Itachi was relaxed by the pressure to his tense muscles.

“Uh.” He cleared his throat a little. “Sasuke told me.”

“Told you what, now?” Itachi asked, turning his head to look at him.

“About your parents.”

Itachi nodded slowly. “Ah.” He didn’t look upset at all, which was relieving to Kisame. “I suppose it would be better told him his perspective, anyhow.”

Kisame didn’t know what to say. “I’m—uh—I’m sorry—”

“Shush, now,” Itachi chided, squishing Kisame’s face between his hands and kissing him on the nose. “You don’t need to say anything.”

“I feel like I should.”

Itachi shrugged. “What is there to say?” He patted his face. “Besides—it happened so long ago.”

“That…doesn’t take away from….”

“From how bad it was. I understand.” Itachi hummed a little. “Thank you for your consideration. Do you have any questions?”

“You sound like middle school teacher,” Kisame said.

“I only don’t want you to be left hanging.”

Kisame ran a hand over his head. “No questions, I guess. I just…understand more about you, I think.”

“You mean you understand why I’m so mentally unstable.”

“Don’t say that,” he reprimanded with a frown. “That’s not what I meant.”

Itachi shrugged. “You know it’s halfway true. Now, if we’re done bickering about it, would you be willing to drive to the pizza place?”

Kisame smiled a little. “Sure thing.” He grabbed Itachi’s forearms. “Will you talk to me, though?”

Itachi raised an eyebrow. “I’m speaking to you this very moment.”

Kisame rolled his eyes, releasing one of Itachi’s arms to tuck dark hair behind his ears. “I mean about your parents.”

Itachi paused. “What do you want me to say?”

“Anything. I mean—if there’s anything you want to say. If you ever feel lonely or sad about it, or if you have uncomfortable memories—”

“You’re awfully cute when you’re floundering,” Itachi said warmly, taking a step closer until Kisame wrapped his waist up in a hug. “I’ll talk to you, if I need.”

Kisame grunted. “Alright. I just want you to know that I’m here. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Itachi repeated, a little teasing. “I’m in a very good mood, though, so I’m not entirely keen on talking about it tonight.”

“I picked that up,” Kisame grunted, lips twitching. “Why _are_ you in such a good mood?”

Itachi smiled, shoulders bouncing in a shrug. “You’re here. I really did miss you, Kisame.”

He grinned. “I missed you, too.” He tilted Itachi’s chin up for a kiss. “How should we celebrate our reunion, hm?”

Itachi pressed another kiss to his lips.

“Maybe you could celebrate by picking up the damn pizza.”

Kisame raised his eyebrows, turning his head to look at the hallway. “Sasuke, you have the most unique timing.”

He didn’t look amused. “It’s getting cold.”

“Nonsense. They keep them shelved in those warmer things.” He waved a hand. “The racks by the cash register.”

Itachi sighed. “We’re going, we’re going.”

“You’re coming, too?” Kisame asked, catching Itachi’s hand as he moved towards the door.

“Of course I am,” Itachi replied, toeing his shoes one.

Kisame hummed appreciatively when Itachi bent over.

“No road head,” Sasuke snapped as the door closed behind them.

\--

Sign language was a wildly beautiful language, Kisame decided.

Itachi’s hands were a beautiful flurry of movement as he smiled at his student. Her name was Alise, and she had golden hair curled into cute springs, which bounced when she nodded enthusiastically. Itachi was tutoring her in spelling; not being able to hear or pronounce words made it harder for her to understand, Itachi had told him before she arrived.

Kisame was lounging on Itachi’s couch, sketchbook on his lap and expensive architect’s pencil twirling between his fingers. He was trying to draw something for Itachi—rusty as he may be to freehand sketches, since he was so used to the straight, guided lines of blue prints—but could not seem to stop getting distracted.

Maybe he just hated taking his eyes off of Itachi.

It was hard to look away from something so beautiful, after all.

Itachi was especially beautiful, Kisame decided, when he was laughing halfway silently, fingers frozen in a sign. He was especially beautiful while his hands danced and taught.

Kisame wasn’t sure if he was skilled enough to capture that magnificence with pen and ink, but he would try.

He managed to glue his eyes to his sketchpad, only looking up when he heard Itachi laugh.                                                                                                                                                                                 

It was nice, this weirdly domestic vive the two of them had picked up. Kisame laying on Itachi’s couch, listening to him tutor and sketching absently. Itachi did his laundry for him and cooked (with much intervention from Sasuke and Kisame himself) for him and always gave him little kisses and asked if he needed anything.

Kisame could get used to it.

Kisame already _was_ used to it.

Alise’s appointment ended, and she waved happily to Kisame, who smiled and waved back, before she skipped out the door. Itachi cleaned up the table, putting his teaching materials away and brushing the eraser shavings off and into his hand, which he then dumped into the trashcan. The laundry dinged, and he disappeared out of the kitchen. Kisame’s pencil was flicking lightning quick across his paper, shading delicately, when Itachi reappeared with a basket full of clothing, all Itachi and Kisame _and_ Sasuke’s clothes mixed in.

“Were you very bored?” Itachi asked, folding a pair of black jeans and starting a pile.

“Nah,” Kisame replied, eyes critically scanning his piece and adding a few marks of detail. “It’s nice lazing around.” He looked up and grinned. “It’s also nice watching you.”

Itachi smirked a little, folding one of Kisame’s tank tops. “What are you drawing?” He asked.

“Later, later.” Kisame waved a hand and set the sketchpad face down.

Itachi quirked an eyebrow.

“ _Later_.” He scooted over on the couch and grabbed a pair of socks, pressing together and peeling down the top of one of them to fold them together. “Let me help.” He muttered a little, “you work too much.”

Itachi had excellent hearing. “I do not.”

“You go from work, to work, to work,” Kisame chided.

“Things must be done,” he answered easily.

“You never take a break.”

“I’m taking a break right now.”

Kisame raised an eyebrow, pausing. “By folding laundry.”

“By talking to you, my dear.”

“Dear? Well, shit, when you say things like that I want to put you down on the couch and mess all these folded clothes up again.”

Itachi sighed.

There was a knock on the door, then. Itachi frowned a little, cocking his head to the side.

“I thought you said Alise was your last tutor?” Kisame asked.

“She was.” He set the laundry in his hands down anyways, getting up to answer the door.

He blinked, sticking his head out and looking to the side.

“Who is it?” Kisame asked.

Itachi hummed, closing the door and sliding the lock again. “I don’t know, I didn’t see anyone. Maybe they got the wrong room.”

He was walking back to the couch when someone knocked on the door again. Itachi immediately spun back around, opening it up much more quickly this time, but there was still no one there.

“What’s going on?” Kisame was frowning. He started to get up from the couch, but Itachi waved him back down.

“It’s nothing, Kisame. Just some stupid kid playing ding-dong-ditch.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. It’s nothing but mildly annoying, so please don’t fret,” he reassured.

Kisame shrugged.

Itachi stacked up the whole of Sasuke’s clothes and carried them to his room. Kisame was nearly done with the rest of the pile, his clothes on the coffee table and Itachi’s on the couch. He offered to help Itachi put the clothes away, but he was sat down with a kiss to the temple, and left the room to take care of it himself.

Itachi must have thought that Samoa rendered him unable to do common household chores he had been doing since he was sixteen.

“Is it later?” Itachi asked, sitting down next to him on the couch and looking pointedly at the sketchbook. He tugged on Kisame’s shirt sleeve.

Kisame chuckled, lifting his arm up so Itachi could fit himself against his side. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Of course.” Itachi set a hand on Kisame’s thigh. “I didn’t even know that you drew recreationally.”

“I haven’t since college, actually.”

“You should take it up again,” Itachi encouraged, finger flitting across the edge of the pad of papers, feeling the rough, fraying edges of the pages at the bottom. “And show me everything you draw.”

Kisame snorted. “Should I?”

“ _Yes_.” He tugged on the book again.

“Fine, fine. You’re so demanding,” Kisame playfully chided. “ _Promise_ you won’t make fun of me.”

“I promise,” Itachi said patiently and sincerely.

Kisame flipped the cover of the sketchbook open, carefully thumbing through the pages till he got the right one. He waited for Itachi to say something, got a little nervous when he didn’t. “Itachi?”

Itachi’s face was blank. Not carefully blank, not controlled, but shocked speechless.

“…are you upset?” Kisame asked eventually when Itachi remained silent.

“This is me,” he whispered eventually, reaching out one finger to touch the page just a little.

“I know, baby. I drew it.” But Itachi wasn’t smiling, or anything, and it kind of worried Kisame. “Do you not like it? I, uh, just thought—”

“This is my face, and—you drew me,” he said again.

Kisame tilted his head, watching him carefully.

“Is this how you always see me?” Itachi asked, taking the page into his hands and pulling it closer.

“What?”

Itachi met his eyes for the first time. They were swimming with…some swirl of emotions. “This is beautiful, Kisame. Is this how you see me?”

“Oh. _Duh_.” Kisame chuckled.

Itachi stared at it for a second, tracing with his eyes the way Kisame drew his hair like moving ink across the page. The way his lips were slightly parted, the way Kisame shaded a light into his eye as he looked off to the side.

“Can I keep this?” he asked very quietly, pulling it towards his chest.

“Of course you can,” Kisame replied warmly. “You like it?”

Itachi nodded. “I really, really, really do.”

Kisame grinned. He ran a hand over Itachi’s hair, cupping the back of his neck and pulling him in close. “I’m glad that you like it.”

“I like _you_ ,” Itachi blurted. _One_ word off.

Kisame chuckled. “I quite like you, too.”

 _One word off_.

\--

Itachi wrapped the vacuum chord around the handle and steered it towards the closet. Kisame had been staying at his house for four days now, and Itachi was getting maybe a little too used to having him on hand for kisses or snuggles whenever he so chose.

Even Sasuke was starting to get used to it.

Kisame still hadn’t said that magic four letter word, but he was being ridiculously affectionate. Itachi was partly wondering _why_ he was even being so adamant about it anymore.

But that was dangerous thinking, he decided. He was going to stick with his guns on this one.

“Hey, baby?” Kisame called, coming up behind him.

Itachi turned around to be greeted with that ever charming grin. “Did you need something?”

“Only you, always.”

“Charming.” Itachi let his smile have its way for a moment. “You were saying?”

“Mm,” Kisame murmured. There was a little light in his eye, a sparkle that let Itachi know he was up to something. “There’s something I have for you.”

Itachi was wary. “Like a present?” Kisame had been in good mood all day, humming and grinning every time he looked over. Something was happening.

“Exactly like a present,” Kisame confirmed, taking Itachi’s hand and leading him to the bedroom.

“…you’re not just going to take off your pants and show me your dick, are you?” Itachi asked cautiously.

Kisame laughed so hard he doubled over. “No, baby, not today. That would be a pretty great gift, though. Remind me to use it later.”

Itachi raised an eyebrow, closing his bedroom door behind them. Kisame knelt down next to his suitcase and rummaged around in it for a few minutes, under layers of clothes. Eventually he stood up, an inconspicuous brown box in his hand, and motioned him to sit on the bed.

Itachi perched himself on the edge and Kisame sat next to him, a breathless grin on his face. His fingers twitched around the brown paper.

“What’s going on,” Itachi murmured, eyes flicking between Kisame’s happy smile and the box.

“Don’t look so frightened,” Kisame laughed, “it’s just a little something. I got it in Upolu.” He held it out for Itachi to take.

The box was very light; at first, Itachi didn’t even believe that there was something to unwrap. “Why did you wait so long to give it to me, then?”

Kisame’s grin melted down a little into something softer and more genuine. “Because today is a special day.”

Itachi tilted his head to the side, face nothing but confusion. He slipped one finger under the corner of the brown paper and tore it to the side. “Kisame, I don’t want you spending money on me.”

“I didn’t spend a dime, baby, I promise.”

The brown paper fell away to reveal a plain white box. Itachi flashed Kisame a look and pushed the lid off.

There was a rounded leather chord. There were four metal rings split in half by a beautiful white sharks tooth.

Itachi’s eyes widened a little.

“I found it on the beach,” Kisame started, a little quietly. “I told you that my cousin makes jewelry, right? I had her put this together for me.”

Itachi stared at it for a moment.

“I thought it could remind you of me. Because…ya know, the whole shark thing.”

Itachi looked up at him, fingers curling around the necklace. “I really love it,” he eventually got out, voice sticking only a few times. _I really love you._

Kisame grinned. “Yeah? I’m glad. Want me to put it on you?” He asked.

Itachi nodded, holding it out for Kisame to take and turning his back to him. He pressed his fingers to the tooth, biting a smile between his lips. “What kind of shark do you think it came from?”

“Blacktip reef, I’m sure,” Kisame said, clasping it behind Itachi’s head. He turned him back around, eyeing the way it lied on the hollow of Itachi’s throat.

He looked ridiculously satisfied.

“You’re kinda marking your territory with this, aren’t you?” Itachi asked, a quiet smile in his voice.

Kisame grinned a predatory grin. “You’re mine,” he said, reaching out and grabbing Itachi by the shoulders to drag him in.

“You’re a little possessive,” Itachi noted, hips tightening when Kisame’s fingers slipped their way under the waistband of his pants.

Kisame winked. “I’m pretty good at keeping it under wraps, no?” He situated Itachi’s legs on either side of his until he was seated tightly in his lap.

Their lips met a little roughly, Itachi’s hands not hesitating to make themselves at home in Kisame’s hair. They kissed for a few minutes before Itachi moved his lips down Kisame’s neck and throat, finding lovely little hollows and dips to sink his teeth or roll his tongue. Itachi didn’t take the initiative much, so he thought it was about time to turn Kisame into the puddle of goo he was routinely made.

Kisame was grunting out sounds of approval and pleasure, which only spurred him on.

Kisame got tired of being passive, eventually, and pulled Itachi’s mouth back to his, working his fingers under Itachi’s shirt. Itachi, to his utter surprise and glee, happily pulled his shirt up and over his head, throwing it somewhere on the floor before desperately grasping onto Kisame’s face again. Kisame’s hands almost fluttered over Itachi’s skin for a moment, hesitant, nearly afraid. He got his mind about him and _gripped_ onto Itachi’s waist, ribs, collar bones and shoulder blades. His fingers kept twitching inward a little, eager to turn into _claws_ and mark that pretty porcelain skin. Later, he decided. Later when Itachi was naked and rocking under him. Later, when he had Itachi gasping for air, overwhelmed with pleasure. Later, when he could kiss and lick and fuck Itachi in every which way he could.

“You’re hard,” Itachi mumbled against Kisame’s mouth, thumb pressing against the corner of his lips.

“Ah, shit,” Kisame rasped, pulling away a hair. “I was thinking about how good you would look with nothing on but that necklace.”

Itachi snorted, drawing back. “Maybe we should take a break, hm?”

Kisame reluctantly let him crawl out of his lap, but still kept him close, hooking Itachi’s leg over top of his.

“Speaking of the necklace—” Itachi ran the back of his hand against his mouth, feeling the wetness slick across his skin. “You never did tell me. What is this for?” He pressed his index finger to the tooth.

“Can’t it just be for fun?” Kisame asked, stroking his thumb across Itachi’s cheekbone.

“But is it?” Itachi questioned.

A grin. “No.” Kisame’s hand dropped from Itachi’s face, grasping his hand instead. “Happy six month, babe.”

All forms of expression dropped from Itachi’s face. “What.”

“I’m not trying to celebrate it or anything, I just thought it would be—”

“Sixth month what,” he asked, knowing the answer.

“Sixth month anniversary.” He was grinning again.

“From _when_ ,” Itachi stressed, feeling his heart start to pick up speed.

“From when you so graciously made out with me on the hood of my truck and agreed to be my boyfriend. Why?”

Itachi stared, wide eyed. “I…don’t have anything for you.”

Kisame snorted. “That’s—”

“I totally _forgot_ , Kisame!” Itachi suddenly jumped up from the bed, looking just a hair away from mortified.

Kisame rolled his eyes. “Stop being melodramatic and sit down, it’s—”

“I’m sorry—”                                                                                                       

Kisame grabbed both his hand and forcefully yanked him to sit back down on the bed. “ _Itachi_. It is entirely fine.” He tucked black hair behind Itachi’s ear. “Most people don’t even make note of sixth months. I just thought it would be fun….” He trailed off, a leering grin taking place again. “And I really wanted an excuse for you to wear this.” He flicked the shark’s tooth.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Itachi promised, scooting closer into Kisame’s arms.

“You don’t need to, how many times do I have to tell you that?”

“Well, I’m _going_ to.” He leaned against Kisame in full, bringing his knuckled up to kiss. “Can I tell you something?”

“Always,” Kisame replied.

Itachi’s lip twitched up. “I’m really happy,” he said quietly, one finger lingering on the necklace.

“Yeah?” Kisame’s voice was a little breathy.                                                                                              

“Yeah.” He touched Kisame’s cheek. “I keep thinking that I can’t get any happier, that I’m the happiest I ever have been, and ever could be. And then you just make me happier.” His voice was rather tiny.

“Um.” Kisame’s heart was overwhelmed, and it leaked out through his voice. He leaned his head forward to rest against Itachi’s neck. “Ditto.”

Itachi snickered. He spend a minute or two running his fingers through Kisame’s hair. “Happy six month,” he said eventually, quietly.

Kisame wrapped his arms all the way around Itachi, squeezing tight.  “Mm. Sixth months. That sounds nice.”

Itachi nodded. “It does.”

Kisame ran his hands up Itachi’s neck, cradling his face. His thumbs stroked Itachi’s cheekbones, the rest of his fingers caressing the hard bone under Itachi’s ear. Itachi’s eyelashes fluttered a little bit, leaning his head into one of Kisame’s palms.

“Do you want to try for another six?” Kisame asked quietly. “We can see how much more happy I can make you.”

Itachi closed his eyes and smiled.

\--

Kisame stood leaning against a wall in line at his favorite Greek restaurant, waiting for his order to be made. Itachi had booked himself all day with tutoring and wouldn’t be done until evening. Kisame knew he would be exhausted and cooking would be the last thing in the world he would want to do—so why not surprise him with the world’s best gyros?

He crossed his arms, already feeling warm in his stomach. His day improved so much when Itachi was with him. He felt good about having slept over at Itachi’s place for so many nights, since it was a huge step for Itachi to let Kisame inside of his house. He thought about how Itachi slept and leaned his head against the wall. Itachi was warm and…floppy when he was sleepy. He dropped the layers of armor he carried around all day and _melted_ into a more honest, blatant, and pliable person.

Damn, he wanted him back in his arms.

“You sleepin’?”

Kisame snapped his head up, blinking over at the voice that snapped him back to reality. “Suigetsu?”

Suigetsu grinned, a plastic take out bag handle wrapped around his fingers.

“What a coincidence,” Kisame muttered, slumping away from the wall.

“Nah,” Suigetsu shoved one hand into his pocket, “when you mentioned that you were getting Greek food to Mangetsu, he forced me to come over here and bring some to him for dinner.” He shrugged. “How are things? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Pretty good,” Kisame replied crossing his arms across his broad chest again.

“How’s Itachi?”

Kisame grinned.

Suigetsu laughed. “Yeah? That good?”

Kisame looked up. “Itachi is….” Kisame didn’t even have words.

“Sasuke hasn’t scared you off yet?”

Kisame chuckled. “Nah. I’m not gonna let go of Itachi that easy. He kinda seems to have a habit of scaring off Itachi’s boyfriends, though, doesn’t he?”

“Sasuke’s basically a human chastity belt for his brother. If a guy even looks at Itachi sexually Sasuke is _there_ and he’s not fucking happy, man.” He laughed. “That kid can cockblock like a damn professional.”

“He must really be trying, then.” Kisame shrugged. “He showed the expected amount of hostility when I slept over, but nothing that bad. I think he’s all bark and no bite, to be honest. I just play along with it at this point.”

Suigetsu’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “You slept over?!”

Kisame grinned. “Yeah. For like, three days in a row, too. Itachi had me stay over after I got back home.”

“And Sasuke didn’t ever, like, try to cut your dick off?”

“What?” Kisame laughed a little. “Not at all. He even had the idea to set up an air mattress so that Itachi and I could sleep together.”

Suigetsu had a surprised, goofy grin on his face. “Dude, I can’t believe Sasuke didn’t actually, literally murder you. Fuck, are you sure that was him? He must have had a fever. Especially after Itachi’s last boyfriend, damn.”

Kisame shifted forward. “What…do you know about that?”

“About what? Marcus?”

“I don’t know his name,” Kisame murmured. “Lots of stuff has been alluded to, that’s all.” He knew that he probably shouldn’t find anything out from a source other than Itachi, _but…_

Suigetsu twisted his mouth to the side, looking up. “Sasuke was pretty much just one murderous frenzy during the time that Itachi and Marcus split. He was uncharacteristically tight lipped about it, so I can only guess that whatever happened was pretty hard on Itachi.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I remember Sasuke saying that he didn’t understand why Itachi was a magnet for abusive relationships.”

Kisame raised his eyebrows. “Abusive?” He wasn’t necessarily surprised, given what he’d picked up on but—hearing it still made his skin crawl.

“Yeah. All Sasuke told me was that the guy seemed really great at first. Was so good to Itachi, treated him like a king, all that. He was the first person to ever do that, so they trusted him too much. He ended up being a shitstain. Once Itachi had fallen for him gotten really serious, Marcus started guilt tripping him and manipulated. I don’t know all the details, but I know that there was _something_ to do with sex.”

“Did—did he _rape_ him?” The words burned his throat on the way out.

“Nah. At least, I don’t think so.” Suigetsu shrugged. “Sasuke mentioned more than once that Marcus ‘got Itachi into bed,’ so I can only assume that something was really fishy about the whole thing. There were bruises, once, too, but I don’t know how any of that happened. Marcus just totally fucked with Itachi’s psyche, no matter what happened. I think that was the worst part. Itachi got all jittery whenever anyone tried to touch him, even in simple ways. He was obsessed with staying clothed, wouldn’t wear short sleeves. Sasuke found him fully dressed in the shower one time. Anyways, Sasuke became hyper protective of Itachi’s sexuality after that.”

Kisame stared at the ground, brows furrowed. The thought of anyone _hurting_ Itachi, on purpose, just to do it, made his blood boil. “Itachi doesn’t act that way, though. I mean…I can tell something happened, but he was always pretty adamant about his boundaries. He just sucks at asking for help.”

“That’s a good sign. But, Itachi—Itachi used to be in a really bad place. I mean, you can tell, right? He’s…hard on himself.”

Kisame immediately thought of when he slept over, and Itachi acted like he had killed a family of five when he forgot to mention he had a twin bed. Or when he fought with his brother. Or when they fought about groceries. Shit, there was a lot, actually.

“It used to be a hell of a lot worse. Itachi had exactly zero self-worth; even I could tell that without Sasuke clueing me in. Marcus showed him affection and Itachi just _assumed_ that meant that he owed Marcus everything. But like I said, Sasuke never really told me much of the details. All I know is some bad shit went down.”

Kisame’s eyebrows stayed dented inwards. Itachi was ashamed of his financial standing and his work, he was uncomfortable with his body, he overreacted to even little mistakes he made…even on their first dates, Itachi couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around the concept that Kisame was attracted to him.

Suigetsu looked lost in thought. “Don’t take that lightly.”

“Don’t take what lightly?”

“How Sasuke is treating you.”

Kisame cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

Suigetsu shrugged a little. “I’ve been around Sasuke for a long time, and I’ve seen lots of guys fancy Itachi. Somehow all of them treated Itachi like shit one way or another, and Sasuke has all but barricaded Itachi off from potential lovers.”

 _‘It’s been a trend of wasted time with wasteful people.’_ Kisame recalled Itachi saying, way back on their first date.

“I don’t want to be fuckin’ with you but—Sasuke doesn’t just let people close to Itachi unless he thinks highly of them in some way. _Trust me,_ he has put a few guys through hell. If he’s giving you an easy time, if he’s _encouraging it,_ Itachi either really fucking loves you, or Sasuke thinks you’re good for him.”

Kisame kept his face schooled, but his fist tightened, hidden behind his thick arm.

Was Itachi in love with him?

Suigetsu grinned. “I’m not starting shit,” he said, “I’m just telling you. Also, Sasuke’s going to be a complete dick to me if you break Itachi’s heart so—don’t, uh, do that.”

Kisame nodded. “Yeah. Good to know.”

“Did I freak you out?”

“Huh?”

“You look pretty lost in thought. I’m not saying you have to _marry_ Itachi, I’m just saying that, at least on Itachi’s end this is a serious relationship. Don’t be a dick, ya know?”

“Yeah,” Kisame grunted. “I get it. Thanks.” His number was called, then, and Suigetsu waved him goodbye as he went to retrieve his food.

He put the bag on the passenger seat of his truck as he started the engine. He pulled out of the parking space, listening to the crunch of the crumbling black top beneath the wheels of his heavy truck. There wasn’t much good on the radio, but he fiddled through the stations anyway as he waited for an opening to pull out of the parking lot and into the busy, commuter filled streets. 

Kisame thought a lot on the ride home. What Suigetsu said wasn’t particularly news, nor did it scare him off or anything. It was just a heavy little ball in his stomach, a reminder. Kisame wasn’t entirely sure why it was affecting him so much—Itachi was never a casual fling to him, Itachi was someone he legitimately and deeply cared about.

So why did he feel so weird all of the sudden?

A few minutes later he was rolling up into the parking lot of Itachi’s apartment. He turned off the radio as he parked. He tried to shake off the feeling his in chest and he unbuckled his seatbelt and grabbed the bag of food, hopping out of the truck. He cleared his throat, as if he could physically dislodge the feeling and send it away. The truck beeped and the locks clicked as he walked to Itachi’s door and knocked.

When the door opened, he was greeted with messy black hair and eyes filled with a subdued anxiety.

“K-Kisame?” Itachi asked breathily, confusion spreading across his face.

Kisame gave a little grin and held up the take out bag. “I figured you’d be tired. I brought dinner.”

Itachi’s eyes were wide and his lips were slightly parted, but other than that his face was blank.

Then he just—sank to the floor. “Woah—hey, Itachi,” Kisame dropped the food on the floor and reached both hands out to stabilize him. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He gathered Itachi into his arms. “Babe?”

Itachi melted, burying his face into Kisame’s neck. Kisame could feel uneven breaths on his skin as he held him.

“Shit, Itachi, talk to me.” He tilted his chin up to meet weary eyes. “Babe?” he repeated in whisper.

“You—I was—” He wrapped his arms tightly around Kisame’s waist. “I was just going to call you.”

“Yeah?” Kisame asked, brow still furrowed in worry. “What’s wrong, baby? Tell me what’s wrong.” He pulled him back up to stand.

“We have no food,” Itachi said absently, letting Kisame’s arms hold him up. “I forgot to buy groceries? I had no money so I kept putting it off…Sasuke didn’t even eat breakfast this morning….” He ran a hand over his head. “I was just standing in the kitchen wondering how the hell I had forgotten to get my brother _food_ ,” he swallowed, “and then I hear a knock on the door and I assume it’s the landlord or something because how else could my day get any worse.”  He paused, looking frazzled. “But it’s you, and you brought me dinner.” He slid his hands to Kisame’s cheeks. “How do you always do this?”

“Do what?”

Itachi looked for words for a second. “Know what I need and do it before I even ask.”

Kisame just grinned. He kissed Itachi on the temple quickly and moved forward. “I’m just that good, Itachi.”

He let out a sigh, locking the door as Kisame moved to put the food out on the table. He didn’t respond, but instead moved next to Kisame, watching him remove the Styrofoam boxes and set them on the kitchen table. He looked upset.

“Don’t like Greek food?” Kisame jested.

Itachi just stared at the table.

Kisame’s brow furrowed, and he reached forward to touch Itachi’s hair. “Babe?”

Itachi had his arms crossed tightly against his chest. “I should...I should have been able to do this. I should have been able to feed my own brother.” He looked down.

Kisame paused, wadding up the plastic bags in his hands. “Why?”

Itachi looked up at him.

“Why do you need to take care of him completely?”

Itachi’s expression twisted. “He’s my little brother, Kisame.”

“So why does that mean you have to do everything single handedly?”

Itachi paused. “It’s my job to take care of him.” His response was automatic.

“I _know_. But why do you have to do everything all on your own?” He let his hands move to Itachi’s waist, pulling him in gently. “Why don’t you ever let yourself rely on anyone?”

“I’m _trying_. But Sasuke is…a touchy subject for me.”

Kisame pushed him up against the counter. “I know. And you’ve grown so much, and I’m proud of you. I just want you to know that you have me.” He tilted Itachi’s chin up. “You know that, right?”

“That’s why I was going to call you.” Itachi’s voice was very tired, but his eyes had a little spark in them again, and his lips were tilting up.

“Hey, I mean it. There’s no shame in asking for things. You can—”

Itachi’s stomach took that inopportune moment to growl.

Kisame paused. “But maybe we should keep talking after dinner?” He winked.

Itachi called Sasuke out to eat and started gathering the plates from the cupboard, Kisame setting the drinking glasses down, as well.

A door opened in the hallway. “Nii-san?” Sasuke asked, a little confused as he walked towards the kitchen. “I thought we weren’t having dinner.”

“Kisame brought Greek food for all of us,” Itachi explained, smiling as he turned around 

Sasuke immediately went to the table, eyes widening when he saw the food. “I haven’t had Greek food in forever,” he said, opening a box. He picked up the gyro and took a gigantic bite, hunched over the table so anything that slipped out of the sandwich would land on the table, not the floor. “Fuck yeah,” he muttered around a mouthful.

 “Language,” Kisame said out of reflex.

“And sit down. We’re going to eat like properly, not hunched over the table.”

Sasuke rolled his eyes and sat down.

Diner conversation was light and airy. Itachi got himself into a teasing mood, bugging Sasuke all about Naruto.

“You haven’t had him over in so long, little brother. I nearly miss him.” He chuckled. “Do refrain from telling him that, though, or I doubt he’ll ever leave our apartment again.”

“He’s been busy,” Sasuke grumbled. 

“Trouble in paradise?” Kisame teased, dipping pita bread in humus.

“Shut up,” Sasuke groaned. “We’re just fine. He doesn’t want to be harassed by you.” He sent a pointed look to Itachi.

“Me, harass him? Now, Sasuke, he must be confusing us, because the only one who’s done any sort of harassing to a boyfriend—” Itachi’s phone went off in his pocket, then, and he paused in what he was saying to answer it. “Hello?” He tilted his head. “Hello?” After just another second he frowned and hung up. “Wrong number, I guess. Anyways, Sasuke—” His phone started buzzing again on the counter. He answered it a little more slowly. “Can I help you?” He started, a little more slowly.

“It’s just a wrong number, Nii-san, ignore it.”

Itachi frowned a little. “Someone’s…breathing?”

“Hang up,” Kisame said, reaching for the phone. “Don’t fuck with that.”

Itachi blinked as he ended the call, shrugging a little, and tossed it off to the side.

“ _Anyways_ ,” Sasuke continued. “Speaking of Naruto, he’s thinking of having a party. Do you guys want to come?”

“A party?” Itachi questioned. “In his college dorm room?”

“Nah, Kakashi and Iruka are out of town and they said he could use their house.”

Itachi hummed. “And what type of party is this?”

“Just a kick-back, Nii-san. No one will be there but people you know.” Sasuke’s eyes flicked over to Kisame. “Your boyfriend is invited, too.”

“Well, I’m just touched,” Kisame said with a grin.

Sasuke rolled his eyes. “There will be alcohol, though, so you can sleep the night.”

“All of us?” Itachi asked. “They must have a big house.”

“Not really, but we can all fit. There’s a couple bedrooms, and you can bring air mattresses. And the couch pulls out.”

“I don’t,” Kisame joked out of reflex, grinning.

Sasuke sent him a dead stare. “And you’re uninvited.”

Kisame’s grin suddenly faltered. “Ah—uh, sorry.”

“He was only kidding, Kisame,” Itachi murmured, licking tzatziki sauce off of his thumb.

“Yeah.” He shifted a little in his chair.

Itachi tilted his head. “Are you alright?”

“’Course,” Kisame said before taking a big bite of his sandwich.

“Geez,” Sasuke muttered. “Didn’t know your balls were so soft. I can’t joke around with you anymore?”

Kisame only shrugged.

Itachi narrowed his eyes. “No snarky comeback?”

Kisame shook his head, taking a drink of his water. “Nah.”

“I just said ‘comeback’ and you’re not going to touch it.”

Kisame blinked.

“Oh _come on_ , I’m setting you up so easily right now.”

“Guess I’m just out of jokes,” he said simply. He cleared his throat. “You better finish that gyro,” he said, nodding his head toward it.

“Nice subject change,” Itachi replied casually. “I’ll eat most of it.”

“ _All_ of it.”

“Don’t tell him what to do,” Sasuke said pointedly. He turned to Itachi. “Nii-san, you better finish that gyro.”

Kisame chuckled.

Kisame and Sasuke did in fact team up to bully Itachi into eating the entire sandwich, despite his numerous protests of ‘my stomach will explode.’

His stomach did not, in fact, explode.

“I’ll take care of the dishes, Sasuke, you go back to studying,” Itachi said as he stood up to clear the table.

“Thanks for the food, Kisame,” Sasuke called as he disappeared into the hallway.

“He’s pretty much warmed up to me, hasn’t he?” Kisame chuckled, gathering the plates and stacking them in the sink.

“Mm, I’m sure he would accept you all the way if you would cut out the innuendos around him,” Itachi joked, turning on the water and soaping up a sponge.

“Oh.” Kisame shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry about that. I’ll, uh, stop doing it.”

Itachi raised an eyebrow, handing Kisame a dish to dry. “I was only teasing, Kisame.”

“Sure.” He didn’t meet his eyes.

Itachi tilted his head. The wheels and circuits of his mind were whirring. “Has something happened to you?”

“No,” he answered easily. “I’m just trying to be mindful.” He looked at his drying rag as he ran it over the rim of the plate.

“And you feel the need to be mindful all of the sudden, after months of making jokes.” Itachi rubbed a sponge over the silver ware and shook them partially dry before handing them over.

“I just, uh,” Kisame started. “I don’t want to upset you.”

“Don’t you think I would tell you if you made me uncomfortable?”

“Yeah, probably.”

Itachi gave him a weird look but otherwise dropped it. “Alright.” Could Kisame have…? “Can you put these away in the cupboard?” He asked, gesturing to the stack of clean dishes drying on the counter.

“Yeah, sure thing.”

Itachi washed the sink out and twisted the sponge dry. He folded the drying rag over the edge of the sink.

“So, how did you find out?” Itachi asked simply, kneeling down next to the cabinet under the sink to get the table cleaner.

“Find out about what?” Kisame asked.

“Marcus.”

Kisame blinked.

“I’m not _that_ oblivious, Kisame. The sudden sensitivity to your sex jokes? Your weird attitude since you got here? You have to know something.”

Kisame didn’t say anything for a moment. “I’m sorry, if you didn’t want me to know. I shouldn’t have—”

Itachi waved a hand, standing up with the bottle and the rag. “No, it’s fine. I should have told you earlier, I guess, it just never came up.” He paused and frowned. “It’s not really the easiest thing to bring up out of the blue.”

“You don’t have to tell me if it’s private,” Kisame murmured.

“I want you to know,” Itachi answered simply, collecting spilled bits of food in his hand. “I am curious how you found out, though.”

“Suigetsu,” he replied. “I ran into him while I was picking up the food. I just had all these bits and pieces and….”

“I understand.” He sprayed down the table, mist pluming up from the wood surface in little billows. “Is there anything you want to know? I’m not sure what exactly Suigetsu knows.”

“Did he rape you?” Kisame asked immediately.

Itachi jolted up, turning around. “What on earth? Did Suigetsu say that?”

“He said that he coerced you into bed.”

Itachi frowned. “No, I would not use language as strong as that.”

“Guilt tripped you?”

“That’s a bit better, yes.”

Kisame didn’t look pleased.  “That’s still a really shitty thing.”

“Be that as it may, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” He began to rub the rag across the table, flipping the rag over for the second half. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“Itachi, are you— _defending_ him?”

“What? No, of course not. I just don’t want you to overreact.”

 Kisame sighed sharply. “Itachi, you’re being biased about your own experiences.”

“How does that make sense? Who else would know better than me, the one it happened to?”

“I just know how you are about these things,” Kisame insisted.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Itachi turned around, frowning.

“I just want you to tell me the _truth_.”

“Are you implying that I would purposefully lie to you?”

“I’m saying that—”

“Stop,” Itachi interrupted suddenly, shoulders slumping. “We’re just…fighting for no reason. I’m too tired to argue with you right now.” He ran a hand over his face.

Kisame relented after a moment. “Okay. Fine.”

Itachi walked forward with a sigh. “I promise I’ll tell you everything later. I’m just...right now I—”

“I get it; it’s fine.” Kisame reached a hand out, brushing against the side of Itachi’s face. “It’s fine.”

“You’re angry,” Itachi inferred as he studied his face.

“I’m angry at him, not you.”

“Will it make you feel any better if I promise that I know what he did was wrong?”

“Sure. But let’s not talk about it if you don’t want to. Are you done cleaning up?”

“Yeah,” Itachi said after a moment. “Let me just put this away,” he murmured, jiggling the surface cleaner bottle, blue liquid sloshing against the edges.

Once the kitchen was thoroughly cleaned, the two sat down on the couch, Kisame leaning back so Itachi’s back could rest against his chest. Itachi flicked through channels absently. He could feel the anger tensing the muscles in Kisame’s back.

“Are you still upset with me?” He asked, trailing his fingers over Kisame’s wrist.

“I’ve already told you I’m not upset with you.”

Itachi shifted a little, eyes flicking between the re-run of Scandal and the floor. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

Kisame nudged his nose against Itachi’s hair. “No, don’t worry about it, really.” He let out a little breath. “It’s…frustrating, that’s all.”

“What is?” Itachi asked quietly.

Kisame shook his head. “No, you said you didn’t want to talk about it. So let’s not.” He kissed Itachi’s hair, giving him a squeeze. “I mean it. I’ll be fine in, like, two minutes.”

Itachi frowned a little, but did acquiesce after a moment or two. 

They watched TV meaninglessly for a while. Itachi didn’t like it much; it just felt like wasted time. Kisame seemed much more content to bury his face in Itachi’s hair then actually watch the screen, and Itachi hadn’t seen a program in…well, it would be probably be years, if he could pinpoint the exact time. He dragged the blanket off the back of the couch, throwing it over his legs to keep them warm. Kisame noticed, pressing his legs a little closer.

Itachi hated fighting. Itachi was non-confrontational, would do nearly anything to avoid uncomfortable tension, especially with those he loved. Fighting with Kisame made him feel like shit, to be blunt, especially since it was so _rare_. It was awful, and the more he thought about it, the more he blamed himself. He shouldn’t have been so secretive about it, that only made the big reveal more shocking to Kisame.

He wrinkled his nose.

“’Same?”

A grunt.

“Would you….” He trailed off, pursing his lips.

“Do you need something?” Kisame asked, voice a little softer. He removed his head from the back of Itachi’s neck and rested his chin on his shoulder.

He shrugged. “Would you like to spend the night?”

He couldn’t see it, but Itachi could just about feel the grin Kisame wore as he chuckled. “You really love me sleeping over, huh?”

“I’ve told you that I sleep better with others nearby.”

Kisame kissed his cheek. “Course I’ll stay the night, babe. You know I wouldn’t miss holding you all night for the world.”

Itachi leaned his head back and asked for a real kiss.

It was a little lighter after that, the atmosphere between the two of them, and they held hands as the TV continued to flicker and the clock ticked on. Sasuke came out at some point, seeking company, and sat on the floor. The three of them had an easy conversation, Itachi sitting up out of Kisame’s lap so as not to bother his brother.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Who’s texting you so late?” Sasuke asked.

“It’s the same number from before,” Itachi answered.

“What did they say?” Kisame asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Nothing,” Itachi offered with a puzzled voice, holding his phone out. “They’re just blank texts.”

Sasuke looked unhappy. “Block the number,” he ordered.

“I’ve no idea how to go about doing that,” Itachi replied.

“Give it to me,” Sasuke muttered, snatching it from his hands.

Itachi sighed, reaching over to take Kisame’s hand. “I’m sure you’re overreacting.”

“And I’m sure I’m blocking the number either way.”

Itachi caught the phone when Sasuke tossed it back to him. “Thank you, little brother.” He hummed for a moment. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, has the program picked their winning contestant yet?” Itachi asked.

Sasuke nodded. “They should be announcing the winner in two weeks. At least, that’s when it’s scheduled on the website.”

“What’s this?” Kisame asked, pressing his thumb against Itachi’s palm.

Itachi turned to him. “Sasuke entered a special contest that awards huge scholarships,” he answered. “He had to write a long essay and submit it along with a bunch of other character clarifying things, recommendations letters, financial documents, etcetera.”

“Waiting for the results is like hell,” Sasuke muttered.

“Well, if it’s based on merit, you’re a shoe in,” Kisame told him.

“Don’t jinx it.”

Itachi rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Kisame. Sasuke only enjoys being difficult.”

“Do I, now?” He sighed, leaning his back against the couch. “Itachi’s been laboring away to put me through college. This is the one damn thing I can do to help out, and if the fuckers don’t choose me—”

“If the judges choose someone else, you will continue through your education as if none of this ever happened,” Itachi interrupted.

Sasuke glowered. “Yeah, but I’ll be pissed off the whole time.”

Kisame chuckled. “Then for all our sakes, we should hope you get in.”

Itachi got sleepy in not too long, so they turned the television off and headed their separate ways for bed. It was kind of quiet between Itachi and Kisame as they brushed their teeth and changed. Kisame didn’t have much to say, which wasn’t bad, but Itachi couldn’t help but think that he was feeling off.

“Could you braid my hair for me?” Itachi asked as they settled onto the bed in Itachi’s room, tugging at the hairband at his wrist.

Kisame grunted, motioning him forward.

Itachi leaned into his chest, rubbing himself into place so he was comfortable. “Thank you,” he murmured, one hand resting on Kisame’s knee.

“It’s good practice.”

“Because you need so much practice braiding.”

“You never know.”

When Itachi’s hair was done he got out of bed and turned off the light. Kisame was already getting under the covers when he slipped into bed.

Both of them were laying on their sides in the darkness, Itachi gazing softly at Kisame’s face, enough mellow light to make out each other’s facial features. Eventually Kisame reached a hand out to stroke Itachi’s cheek, scooting a little closer.

“He told me it was the only thing that would make me worth it,” Itachi said suddenly in a gentle voice, shifting on the bed.

“What?” Kisame asked, confused.

“Marcus.”

Kisame shook his head. “Itachi, you really don’t—”

“I’m telling you, Kisame.”

He went quiet for a second. “What would make you worth it?” He asked hesitantly, quite sure he wouldn’t like the answer one way or another.

“Sex,” Itachi answered. The word was splintered in his mouth, a delicate project gone wrong that still nicked the edges of his tongue.

Kisame’s eyes flicked up, one hand shirking across the bed to touch Itachi’s fingers.

“That’s how it started, at least. I was a virgin when I fell in love with him and had all these…hopeless romantic ideas about how it should be your first time. Candles and rose petals—something like that. Not in a grimy bathroom stall of a sleazy bar,” he snorted a little when he said it, and then went soft in his voice again. “He was so respectful when we started dating, never pushed for anything when I held back. But then, that day, he took me to a bar, drank too much beer, and pinned me in the bathroom, and when I told him I didn’t want to sleep with him—at least not _there_ —he said, ‘What other reason would I keep you around? Are you ever going to be worth my time?’”

And Kisame’s heart broke just a little bit—not because of what Marcus told him, but because Itachi had it imprinted in his memory word for word.

“It surprised me, at first, but then—I just went with it, and figured he would explain himself later.” He huffed out a chuckle, darting his eyes away from Kisame’s. “It was _awkward,_ which is probably obvious, and it hurt so bad I remember wondering why anyone would _ever_ do it on their own volition. I kept telling him it hurt, and he assured me it was fine even though I could feel the blood dripping down my legs a little.”

Kisame’s entire face blanched. “What the fuck, Itachi?” He whispered.

Itachi looked up and shrugged—just shrugged. “It wasn’t _that_ bad, but I’m sure you aren’t supposed to bleed.”

Kisame reached forward and pulled Itachi closer. Protectively, defensively.

“It wasn’t as bad the next times. He did it right—or, not right, but at least didn’t make me bleed, I suppose. I didn’t want to get back in bed with him, but he kept saying ‘don’t you love me?’ and ‘this is what lovers do.’” He ran a hand over his face. “I went along with it, but the more it made me want to crawl out of my own skin every time he so much as looked at me. I started panicking when he took me home with him, even faked having the stomach flu once just so he wouldn’t touch me.”

Kisame’s jaw was locked, trying to channel all the emotion he felt in that one moment, trying to hold back all the questions, all the insults he could pour out. Instead he carefully lifted his hand up, running it along Itachi’s neck, knuckled brushing his skin along the way, and settled on his shoulder. He nudged forward just a little closer. “But he didn’t rape you.”

“No,” Itachi said slowly, “not rape. I consented to everything, even if it was less than pleasant sometimes. It was just….”

“Manipulation,” Kisame finished for him, eyes tracing the thick eyelashes fluttering against Itachi’s cheek.

“Yeah.” He paused. “But that was just the sex,” Itachi whispered.

“There’s more,” Kisame responded quietly, thumb rubbing gentle circles into the soft skin of Itachi’s shoulder.

Itachi’s gaze was steady, calm. Reassuring, almost, and Kisame knew he would be near raging if Itachi wasn’t so…grounding. “I suppose it was all your text book stuff. He told me how to eat and dress, when I could go out and do something. He yelled at me for no reason, always told me that if I loved him I would do what he instructed.” He picked at the seam of the pillow his head was resting on. “Called me stupid, invalidated my opinions. If I ever became upset with him, he would twist it around until he could blame me for the whole situation.”

Kisame’s eyebrows drew in. “And it never bothered you?”

“…honestly? Not really. It wasn’t until—” Itachi broke off, wrinkling his nose. “I used to work at a bookstore in Greystone. He came in one day and brought up my parents. Related some book on the shelf where a main character’s parents died to me. And then—said something really causally, like ‘oh, just how you killed your parents, then?’ Something like that.” He sighed. “My coworker was a really sweet girl, but what are you going to do when you hear something like that? Marcus kept going on about it, how I orchestrated the whole thing and—” he cut off for a second and cleared his throat. “He said that I did it all to cripple Sasuke, to hurt him—” his voice caught in his throat.

Kisame near yanked him into his chest, anchoring Itachi’s legs down with his own. “I know, baby, you would never,” he murmured into his hair, giving him a squeeze. “ _Fuck,_ ” he hissed. He was angry, and his fingers were twitching every now and again, but he wasn’t going to lose it when Itachi was pouring his heart out.

“He started trying to convince _me_ that I did it. Told me that he knew I did it, that I was lying, and only started telling other people because they deserved to know the truth.” He paused. “I almost started believing him. He was quite a convincing person.”

“And you just let him?” Kisame asked.

“No,” he started, shaking his head which was still buried against Kisame’s neck. “After I got fired from the bookstore, which was expected, I realized that things needed to come to an end. I was…scared,” he said the word slowly, like he was trying to find the right one, “so it took a lot of courage the day I told him we were breaking up.” He sighed a little. “That was the first and only time he ever hit me.”

Kisame grunted. “Suigetsu said something about bruises.”

“Yeah. I think that Marcus thought he had a deeper hook in me. He never guessed that I would pull away on my own.”

“What did he do?”

“Originally, he tried to force himself on me.”

Kisame pulled back to stare at him. What bothered him the most was how Itachi said it so _casually_ , like it didn’t really matter.

“He did not succeed.”

“I gathered that,” Kisame grinded between his teeth. “What happened?”

“Well—Marcus was physically stronger than me, but I was much more coordinated. He got a couple of blows in—I believe that he was trying to render me unconscious—but I managed to get far enough away from him.”

“And…?”

“And…that was kind of that. I told him to not come near me or Sasuke ever again. I left his house, and he didn’t try to follow me. Sasuke was…relieved, to say the least, when I told him the news, and as soon as the month was over and we could leave the apartment, the two of us packed up and moved here.”

“And he never tried to contact you?”

Itachi shook his head. “Thank goodness.”

Kisame looked over Itachi’s shoulder at the wall for a few seconds. “C’mere,” he eventually muttered, pulling Itachi into his chest and holding him close. Itachi relaxed into him, nuzzling the top of his shoulder and humming.

Kisame was nearly trembling from everything he had just heard, he was so upset, so angry, so in pain….

And it was then, in that moment, with so many different things running through his head and his heart, that he understood the strange feeling in the car.

He was completely, and hopelessly, and undeniably in love.

He _loved_ Itachi like he didn’t know he could love another human. He loved him fully, every little piece of him, even the broken pieces, even the bitter pieces. He realized he had probably felt that way for a really long time, but it just now hit him, and he had to hold Itachi tighter just to stay grounded with how forceful it was.

The words came bubbling to his lips, but he choked them down, forced himself to hold it within himself. Itachi had already had an emotional day—Kisame wouldn’t throw anything else at him. And it was an awkward time; he didn’t want it to feel forced. So he would wait. He was okay with that.

“Itachi?”

“Hm?” Itachi hummed, tilting his head back and nudging Kisame’s chin with his nose.

“Why did you stay with him?”

“With Marcus?”

“Yeah. You did…know that what he was doing was wrong, right?”

Itachi hummed, lips finding a small little hollow under Kisame’s jaw. “No, at first I didn’t. It made sense, how he said things. We were in a relationship, he was my boyfriend, so he deserved sex whenever he felt like it and I didn’t get a say. I thought that was just how relationships worked, and he had the right to control me.” He pulled back just enough to look Kisame in the eye, pressing a hand to his face. “I know it will upset you, Kisame, but I did love him.”

Kisame’s grip tightened a little darkly.                 

“And I thought he loved me back, I really did.”

“But—Itachi—” Kisame didn’t want to upset Itachi again, he didn’t want to argue. He just could not _fathom_ how any of this made sense in Itachi’s mind. “How could you think that he loved you? You had Sasuke, you had to know the difference between actual love and…pure malice.”

“Well, yes,” Itachi agreed, not very defensive at all. “He never _told_ me that he loved me….” He trailed off all of the sudden, looking lost in his own world of thought that Kisame couldn’t peer into.

“Babe?” He nudged his nose with his lips.

“Ah, sorry, I was thinking about something.”

Kisame sighed. “Alright, well—once you _did_ understand how fucked up he was, you _still_ stayed with him.”

Itachi was very quiet. “Yes.”

“So— _why_.”                                                                                        

Itachi fingers picked at the hem of the pillow his head was resting on. “I don’t want to tell you.”

Kisame stroked a steady hand over Itachi’s black hair, staying calm. “And you don’t have to if it will upset you. But I really wanna know, babe, I’m not going to pretend that I don’t.”

Itachi pursed his lips. “You’ll be very angry with me.”

“I’m only angry at him, not you.”

“We’ll see,” Itachi muttered. He took a little breath, avoiding eye contact. “After…Sasuke understood what was going on, he went crazy. He confronted Marcus, threatened him and cursed at him. I thought…I don’t know what I thought. I don’t know why I didn’t trust my own brother, but I didn’t. If Sasuke had said, ‘break up with him for me,’ I would have. But it would have broken my heart, and Sasuke would never manipulate me like that. I was just blind to what was going on.” He sighed. “I became so hyper-aware of my own naked body, because of how awful it made me feel when he touched me, I refused to ever undress. One day I was standing in the shower with a pair of jeans and a button down shirt on—” He smiled a little, but Kisame didn’t see what was humorous, “—and I realized that _something_ was wrong.”

“And your first logical thought was to keep dating him.”

Itachi rolled his eyes up to glare at him. “You are being awfully rude.”

“I’m sorry,” Kisame grit. “I can’t help it.”

Itachi shifted a little, pressing a hand against Kisame’s chest. His lips smiled fondly of their own right when Kisame took a hold of it, keeping it pressed firmly against his heart. “I stayed with him because…I didn’t think that I would get any better than him.”

“… _excuse me_?”

“I—”

“You thought that someone who regularly abused you was the _best_ you would ever get?”

“I told you you’d be mad,” Itachi sighed, eyes still diverted.  

“’Infuriated’ is a better word.”

“What would you like me to tell you, besides the truth?” Itachi asked.

“I’d like you to tell me that you know how bullshit that is now,” he ground out.

“I do know,” Itachi replied aloofly. “I think that it’s hard for someone who has never been in that position to understand how one thinks.”

“Itachi,” Kisame started. “You are—you are so _much_ , Itachi, how can you not understand that? You are smart beyond words. You’re thoughtful and considerate, you have a diamond heart and a golden soul and—” He buried his head into Itachi’s neck. “You are so beautiful. In every way.” He kissed his skin softly. “I—” he didn’t finish his sentence. “The fact that you ever thought that you deserved to be hurt makes me—” He cut himself off again, letting out a sharp exhale. “Well, I’m sure you can tell.”

Itachi began combing fingers through his hair. “Thank you, Kisame.” He snuggled a little closer. “I’m not going to pretend I completely…see what you do in me. But—sometimes, when you tell me how wonderful I am, I believe it.” He paused. “If it makes you feel any better, if you ever tried to pull that I would have kicked you to the curb.”

“ _Good_.” Kisame nuzzled his throat. “I swear, if I ever see Marcus I’m gonna kick his ass,” he grumbled.

“Please do not,” Itachi quipped lightly. “He will likely charge you with assault.”

“I could break his neck with one hand.”

“You surely could. But I don’t approve of physical violence.”

“No? I got into lots of fights in high school.”

“I can imagine,” Itachi said dryly. “Please, I ask, do not fight anyone on my behalf.”

“I promise…with the exception of Marcus.”

“But—Kisame,” Itachi sighed a little abruptly. “Part of the reason I don’t make a big deal out of this is because I don’t take to feeling like a victim. Someone hurt me—okay. But that’s _it._ I’m not a victim, or a survivor. It just happened, and that’s all I want it to be.”

Kisame pulled away to stare at him in the quiet darkness. “Alright.”

And, again, he felt the words bubble to his lips. _I love you, Itachi, I fucking love you so much._ But it just felt…wrong to say it now, after all that, after Itachi’s entire heart and souls was spilled out and sticky all over the bed in between them. “Alright,” he said again, voice only a little thick. “That’s fine.”

“Thank you,” Itachi murmured, settling down on his pillow.

A pause. “I still might kick his ass, though.”

Itachi snorted a little. “Shut up and come snuggle.”

Kisame did, and Itachi slept very well that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Itachi is such a good house husband.
> 
> Can you tell how bad I am at transitioning/ending scenes? Because I can and I want to vomit.
> 
> Okay for the record I don't actually like it when alternate universe fics depict some gory way Mikoto and Fugaku died? Just because it seems extra. I don't know why I did it. Oh well. 
> 
> The song Suigetsu was listening to is Underwater Bimbos from Outerspace by...does it matter who it's by? I'm pretty sure that there's no other song in the universe with that name. Either way, it's by a group called everytime I die. Don't remember how I found the song...but that's not important. 
> 
> Anyways. Something that I would guess is rather highly anticipated happens next chapter. ;) So come back for that (if you're pickin up what i'm puttin down)
> 
> I actually photosynthesize comments into life energy so if you want to add a year to my life leave a comment (I kid, i kid)
> 
> But in actuality I really really do love comments (as most authors do, I would imagine) and they absolutely make my day. So if you liked this...think about it ^^
> 
> BUT NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO thank you for stopping by. I hope your day is beautiful. Stay strong, text a friend you love, pet a dog, clean your room. <3
> 
> I'll see you soooooon!
> 
> (I mean it. I'm getting the next chapter out sooner. _I really mean it this time_
> 
> Edited end note: I posted this and immediately edited it three times because of the typos i found in the first couple paragraphs lmfao.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO COME OUT THE LAST DAY OF JUNE
> 
> IT WAS ALL PLANNED OUT AND PERFECT
> 
> THEN I BOUGHT OVERWATCH
> 
> shit. Well. I did my best. 
> 
> Hmmmm. Well.
> 
> There's sex in this chapter. So. :P There it is. If you want to avoid it, it will be easy. Its pretty obvious when it's about to go down. (lmao)
> 
> ;)
> 
> Enjoy!!

“When Myop lays the flowers down, it’s symbolizing the loss of her innocence. Summer is over—” Itachi paused mid-sentence at the knock on the door, finger still pressed against the line on his student’s AP Lit exam practice book. “Sorry, give me just a moment.”

The student nodded graciously, following him with her eyes as he went to the door.

He looked out the peephole first, frowning at the delivery man on the other side. He slid the chain lock out of place.

“Hello,” he greeted, opening the door a little cautiously. He hadn’t ordered anything recently. Was it for Sasuke?

“Delivery for Itachi Uchiha?”

“That’s me,” he confirmed.

“Sign here, please.”

Itachi elegantly inked his initials onto the line with a little frown.

The delivery man handed him a gigantic bundle of long stemmed red roses.

“This can’t be for me,” Itachi protested, holding the bouquet away from him like it was dripping mud.

The man shrugged. “Your names here on the list. It’s for you.”

Itachi stared at the swirling red flowers for a few seconds while the UPS worker walked down the stairs and to his truck in the parking lot.

“Are those from your boyfriend?” His student asked, smiling over at him as he set the bundle on the counter.

“Yeah,” Itachi replied.

“That’s sweet,” she crowed, propping her elbows up on the table and resting her chin on her hands.

“It’s out of character,” Itachi corrected lightly, sitting back down at the table.

“You should be grateful,” the girl chastised romantically. “I wish my boyfriend would send me roses.”

“I believe your first wish should be getting a five on this exam,” he replied, transitioning back into their studies. “Question seven, here, asks about the historical roots of the short story. You can infer that it probably takes place….” Itachi easily got back into the groove of his lesson, delving into the historical and racial connotations of the story as if he had read it yesterday.

Once his student left for home, he took his time putting away the materials and cleaning up the table. The bouquet of roses was staring at him, it felt like. Eventually, he wandered back over to them; they were in perfect condition, each bloomed to full grace without any signs of wilted browning the edges. He traced his fingers across the ridges of the petals, pulled a leaf off a stem. The thorns hadn’t been trimmed.

A corner of a plain white card was peeking out from the ostentatious wrapping holding the stems together. As if it were poisonous, Itachi gingerly plucked from in between two stems and flipped it over.

_Love, your Secret Admirer._

Itachi cleared his throat roughly, ignoring the way his stomach dropped. The card balled up in his palm as he clenched his hand shut tightly. He carelessly dropped the flowers back onto the counter and walked to the trashcan.

The crumpled card sat on top of a small pile of eggshells, somehow staring up at him and burning him.

His eyes closed.

Fuck.

“Kisame send you flowers?”

Itachi snapped his head up, rocked out of his thoughts. “Oh. Yeah,” he replied a little absently.

“That’s…excessive,” Sasuke muttered, grabbing an apple out of the fruit bowl.

“It’s sweet.” His voice was still aloof as he recalled the words of his students.

Sasuke snorted. “You don’t sound terribly convinced.” He took a crunchy bite out of the red skin, wiping some juice off the corner of his mouth. “When’s Kisame coming over, again?”

“Ah,” Itachi glanced over at the clock on the wall, “he should be here in about fifteen minutes.”

“How does Kisame have so much money to take you to fancy dinners?” Sasuke asked, tossing the apple up and catching it.

Itachi glared. “Otouto, don’t be rude.”

“I’m just wondering.” He shrugged. “Guess you lucked out, finding yourself a rich boyfriend, huh?”

Itachi stopped walking where he was, face screwed up as he met Sasuke’s eyes. “Why would you ever say that, Sasuke? Do you think that I’m only dating him for his money? You think that little of me?”

“What, Nii-san—no, I was just joking….” Sasuke tilted his head, moving around the kitchen counter to approach Itachi. “I was messing around with you. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just don’t like you implying things like that.”

“Itachi.” Sasuke grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up. “I was _joking_. You know that.” His hands slipped off of Itachi’s face. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

“It’s nothing,” Itachi replied automatically. “Don’t worry about it.”

Sasuke frowned. “Is everything alright between you and Kisame?”

“Yes.”

“Is everything okay at work?”

“Yes.”

“…are you pregnant?”

Itachi looked up dryly.

“Okay, okay.” Sasuke held up two palms in surrender. “I’ll drop it. Just…you can, ya know. Talk to me.”

Itachi’s shoulders relaxed a little, a small smile slipping across his lips. “Thank you little brother. I promise it’s nothing serious, so please don’t stress over me.” He tilted his head. “Now, if I’m not mistaken, I think I hear a skype call ringing from your computer.”

“Ah, shit,” Sasuke cursed, hurrying into the hallway. “That’s Shikamaru, I’ve got a project with him due in two weeks.”

Itachi chuckled. “Be studious while I’m gone.”

“I always am, _mom_.”

Itachi followed after Sasuke into the hallway to his own room to get dressed for the evening. Kisame had called him up that evening and said he wanted to spoil him at the fanciest restaurant in the county, just two cities over. Itachi was a little uncomfortable at first since it was going to be an expensive evening, but he had learned by now to pick his battles when it came to Kisame and money.

He picked through his skimpy closet, pulling out the nicest dress shirt and slacks he had to his name. He hummed as he adjusted his necklaces over the collar of the shirt. His finger lingered extra-long on the sharks tooth.

The knock on the door came while he was in the bathroom brushing his teeth. Before he even had the chance to spit, he heard the door to Sasuke’s room open, and eventually Kisame’s jovial voice float into the entry way. He heard conversation between Sasuke and Kisame while he wiped his mouth off and rinsed the sink.

Itachi came out of his bathroom to find Kisame lounged on his couch, smile spread easy across his face. “Hey, baby.”

“Hi,” Itachi replied simply, greeting him with a kiss to the cheek before heading to the kitchen to grab his keys.

Sasuke pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge. “Kisame, what’s up with the flowers? I didn’t know you were so corny.”

Kisame tilted is head to the side, looking up from his phone. “What?”

“The flowers you sent Itachi.” Sasuke spread his arms wide. “Big ass, cheesy bouquet.”

Kisame sent a pointed look to Itachi. “I didn’t send Itachi any flowers.”

“They weren’t from Kisame,” Itachi interjected, looking down at his key ring, tracing his index finger along a set of bronze teeth. “I thought they were, at first. I didn’t see the sender’s card until later.”

“Who sent them, then?” Sasuke asked.

“Maria. Her good friend runs a flower shop, so I’m sure she got them at a good price. She is a very lovely girl.”

“Ah, right, Maria,” Kisame said. “Where did you put the flowers, babe?”

“The wash room,” he answered easily, heading to the door to put on his shoes.

“The washroom?” Sasuke’s voice was incredulous. “You took all those pretty flowers and stuck them back there?”

Itachi shrugged. “It’s a drab room, it could use a happy spirit. Besides, I spend so much time back there.” Kisame really was affecting him, Itachi realized, because even an easy lie like that made his heart pick up speed anymore.

Kisame shrugged, uncomplicated smile on his face.

By the time Itachi had his shoes fully on his feet, two dark arms were putting an iron grip around his waist.

“You look like,” a kiss, “royalty, baby,” Kisame murmured against the back of his neck.

“You’re absurd,” Itachi chastised quietly.

“I’m not. If only you could look at yourself for even a moment through my eyes.”

Itachi turned around in his arms. “I’m perfectly content with you looking at me.”

“Mm. Maybe instead of going to dinner we can stay here and I can see how you look underneath all those clothes.”

“We can’t do both?” Itachi asked, running a finger up the sinewy tendon of Kisame’s neck.

“Oh, baby,” Kisame said with a chuckle, rubbing Itachi’s back a couple times as he released him. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“ _I’ll_ be the death of you,” Sasuke corrected, scowling from his perch against the kitchen sink. “Maybe keep it in the bedroom.”

“There’s nothing to keep,” Kisame replied with a wink. “I promise.”

“Something I’m _sure_ you’re not trying to change.” Sarcastic.

Kisame grinned.

“If the two of you are quite done,” Itachi tutted lightly, leaning against the door with his arms crossed. “I do believe we have reservations.”

Kisame kissed his cheek on the way out the door, holding it open for him. “I’ll have him home by midnight, sir,” he tossed to Sasuke on the way out.

He narrowly dodged the apple core Sasuke threw at him.

\--

The setting sun was casting a pretty orange glow across the cement. Itachi’s hand was firmly wrapped up in Kisame’s grip, and little teases floated around in the air between them. They were both in a good mood; the restaurant’s manager had a sudden emergency and needed to close the place down early so he could leave. Cue Itachi calling up Kisame and arranging plans to spend together for the rest of the afternoon. Kisame had a stack of movies tucked under one arm, and there were promises to make a pillow fort.

“Can I walk a few steps behind you?” Kisame asked, grinning.

“For what reason?” Itachi asked a little coyly, walking up the stairs.

“I just want to stare at that ass for a little bit longer.”

“So subtle,” Itachi chided, only a bit smug.

It took him a few seconds to get the key in the lock, since Kisame started sucking on his neck, right at the base where his shoulder sloped up. “Kisame.” Itachi’s voice was a half scolding, half appreciative.

“I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry.”

“Of course you’re not.”

Itachi finally got the door open, shimmying Kisame off of him from behind.

“Tadaima,” he called out into house. “Sasuke?”

Sasuke was standing in the kitchen, up against the counter, a tri-folded paper in his hands.

“Sasuke?” Itachi asked again, a little quietly. “Are you alright?”

The only noise that came from his brother’s throat was a little choking noise. “I—”

Itachi was at his side in a near instant, face wrought with worry. “ _Sasuke_ , please tell me what’s wrong. Is Naruto hurt? Did something happen?” He was throttling into full protective brother bear mode.

“No, no—” Sasuke shook his head rapidly. “Nothing like that.”

“Is Juugo alright? Did Karin—”

“ _Nii-san.”_

Itachi froze at his tone, staring wordlessly into his eyes.

“I need you to read this,” Sasuke said, handing out the sheet of paper to him.

Kisame’s heart was fluttering all sorts of spastic ways, scared that something seriously _bad_ had happened.

Itachi’s brow was furrowed as his eyes squinted a little at the words; he wasn’t wearing his reading glasses. It only took a couple of quick flicks of his eyes around the page before it clicked. His eyes widened slowly, mouth slipping open. He stared at it for a couple of seconds, wild gaze flicking between the paper and Sasuke. “Outotou…baby brother, you did it.” A breathy laugh left his lips. “Oh, of _course_ you did it, Sasuke, of course—”

“Nii-san, do you not get it, this is—”

Itachi nodded his head rapidly, an unexpected laugh giggle through his lips. “Oh my god,” he started laughing even harder. “Oh my _god_!”

Sasuke slowly smiled, watching Itachi brace himself against the counter as he laughed.

“Will someone—please tell me what’s going on?” Kisame asked, a little urgent.

“He won,” Itachi laughed, whirling around and waving the paper in Itachi’s face.

Sasuke’s smile was almost goofy, eyes spacy.

“Won what?” Kisame asked, still a little worried. “Baby?”

“The scholarship!” Itachi exclaimed. “He won the fucking scholarship!” He suddenly jumped up, koala hugging Kisame from the front and planting a giant kiss to his lips.

“Wait, for real?” Kisame kept Itachi firmly pressed against his chest. The kiss startled him just a little.

“For real.” Itachi laughed again. “For real for real.”

Sasuke, who was still looking stunned, smiled a little, meeting Kisame’s eyes. “For real for real,” he repeated.

Itachi set his feet back down. “Fifteen thousand dollars,” he crowed. “Fifteen _thousand_ —!” He started giggling again, pressing a fist to his mouth.

“Well, fuck—” Kisame’s face split with a grin. “We gotta celebrate!”

“Celebrate?” Itachi asked, tilting his head to the side, arms looping loosely around Kisame’s neck.

“Duh! You want to just sit on this? This is good fuckin’ news, Itachi!”

“Yes—of course, but we had plans together—”

“We can watch movies _anytime_ , baby.”

Itachi looked to Sasuke, eyes a silent question.  

“Celebrate. That sounds cool, yeah.” Sasuke was definitely acting more subdued than normal. A smile played around the edges of his lips. “Just us, or?”

“Everyone!” Kisame boomed, more jovial than ever. “Call Naruto and Suigetsu—fuck, everyone you wanna.”

“And do what?” Itachi asked as his fingers skimmed along Kisame’s forearm. His smile was still—dazzling, was all Kisame could think. Fuck, Itachi was infinitely more beautiful when he looked so happy.

Kisame grinned. “Eat?” He suggested.

Itachi looked to Sasuke again.

“Sure…sure, yeah, I’m down for whatever.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapping it against his fingers a few times. “Where do you want to go?”

Itachi raised his hands in the air defensively when everyone looked to him for direction. “Don’t look at me. I’ve never celebrated anything.”

Kisame rolled his eyes, tousling Itachi’s hair roughly. “We’ll change that. Right, Sasuke?”

“Right….” Sasuke murmured, smiling. “Yeah.” He was still in some state of shock, it looked like.

“What do you think about the Spaghetti Factory?” Kisame asked.

“Spaghetti,” Itachi mused. “I haven’t had that in a while.”

“I’ll call Naruto and stuff,” Sasuke said. “Hold on.”

When he left the room to get his phone, Kisame grabbed onto Itachi’s face, planting kisses all over his skin.

Itachi hummed, leaning up into the affection. “Kisame, do you know what this means? I can pay off almost all of my debt, I can set money aside for college, I can—” He started laughing again. “Oh my _god_ , Kisame, what did I do to deserve this?”

“Everything,” Kisame whispered into his hair. “Absolutely everything, Itachi. I am so fucking _beyond_ happy for you.”

Sasuke got a hold of his friends with the good news, and they all were more than thrilled to meet him at the restaurant. Itachi stuck the letter to the fridge with a giant pink magnet, turning around with a brilliant smile.

Sasuke was rolling his eyes and snorting to try and hide the elation radiating off of him in palpable waves.

Kisame dismissed himself quickly to use the restroom for a moment before they took off.

“Is it alright if I spend the night at Kisame’s tonight?” Itachi asked Sasuke as he put his shoes on.

“Why not here?” Sasuke asked.

Itachi cleared his throat a little. “Because.”

Sasuke arched one eyebrow.

“Because,” Itachi shifted. “Tonight I’m thinking that I might…that we might—”

“ _Oh_ ,” Sasuke interrupted, waving a hand. “Fuck, um.” He snorted. “Okay.” He paused, tapping his toe against the floor. “He’s said it to you, then?” He flicked his eyes to the doorway, and then, more quietly, “that he loves you?”

“No,” Itachi replied with a frown.

“Oh.”

Silence.

“Then why—?”

“Because I’m tired of waiting.” Itachi brushed hair over his shoulder. “It feels like we’re missing something. There’s no reason to keep prolonging this besides my own stubbornness.”

“Protecting yourself is not just being stubborn,” Sasuke said.

“I know.” Itachi stared up at the ceiling. “But Kisame loves me. Even if he isn’t _in love_ with me…he loves me. It’s obvious.”

Sasuke honestly could only agree. “When did you decide?”

“While he was staying with us a few weeks back.”

“You mean when you and your boyfriend were playing house?”

“We were not ‘playing house,” Itachi defended.

“You absolutely were.”

“We were only making up for lost time.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“ _He_ helps me sleep at night.”

“Should I go about changing that?” Kisame asked, appearing out of nowhere. He grabbed Itachi around the waist and yanked him against his chest. “I can keep you up all night long, baby.”

“Promise?” Itachi asked, a little coyly, looking over his shoulder.

Kisame chuckled a little darkly and bit the skin behind Itachi’s ear. One hand caressed a tempting trail across his stomach.

“ _Please stop,_ ” Sasuke demanded through grit teeth.

Kisame winked, grin wide.

Itachi held Kisame’s hand the whole way to the restaurant, fingers interlocked and resting on the console by the emergency break. Kisame spent the majority of the car ride joking about what Sasuke could do with his money—how many strippers he could hire, how many bottles of tequila he could buy, how many people he could provide Netflix subscriptions for.

They were the first to arrive at the restaurant; unfortunately, however, they had to wait for a table since it was prime dinner time. They were hanging out in front of the restaurant by a bench when Naruto arrived. He nearly tackled Sasuke into the ground when he barreled into him for a hug, throwing his arms around him and whooping.

“Idiot, you’re drawing too much attention!” Sasuke scolded.

Suigetsu showed up only a few minutes, Karin sticking her head out the window and shouting at Sasuke while he parked.

The hostess led them through the restaurant; here was a little boy in the trolley seats giggling his absolute head off who waved at Itachi, a birthday party for a ninety year old woman, and a group of teenagers all catching the same Pokemon on their iPhones.

It felt happy and alive.

For once, Itachi felt like he fit into such a vibrant atmosphere.

 They were seated in the side room of the restaurant at a long table, right under a pretty stained glass hanging lamp. The hostess handed out menus and departed sweetly.

“Do you know what you want?” Kisame asked, not even looking at the menu.

“No,” Itachi replied, one eyebrow arching delicately. “I’ve not been here before.”

“For shit? How have you never been to the Spaghetti Factory?”

Itachi shrugged one shoulder.

Kisame began to give him a thorough overview of the menu, pointing out more than once what he was getting and why it was the superior dish. Itachi teased him a little by asking about every other type of pasta but that one.

“Baby. Listen to me. You don’t understand how good the Mizithra is.”

Itachi smiled. “What about the penne?”

Kisame groaned. “I don’t know, I’ve never gotten it.”

“Then you have no basis to say that it isn’t any better than the Mizithra.”

“It _isn’t_.”

Itachi laughed a little.

“Hello, my name is Lundon and I’ll be your server for today,” a voice said next to them suddenly.

Itachi blinked up from the menu to find a smartly dressed man in an apron smiling down at him.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Lundon asked, eyes slanting to Itachi.

“Just water,” he replied, turning to Kisame.

“Coke,” he answered, a little gruffly. “No ice.”

While the others put in their drink order, Itachi nudged Kisame’s arm to get his attention. He tilted his head to the side. His jolly mood had shriveled up all the sudden.

“Do you see how he’s looking at you?”

Itachi rolled his eyes.

“I’m _serious_.”

“I’ll be back with your drinks in just a moment,” he replied. “Do you need any help with the menu?” He asked, looking straight at Itachi. His smile was charming.

And because Itachi was just in _such_ a good mood, he leaned forward on his elbows and looked up at the man. “I’ve never been here before. Is there anything you would recommend?”

He had to press his lips together to keep from grinning at the look on Kisame’s face he could see out of his peripheral.

“Absolutely! The spaghetti with Sicillian Meatballs is well liked amongst people who tend to stick to the classics. The Angel Hair Pomodoro is a lighter dish, if you’re not looking for something too heavy. If you are wanting to try something richer, I personally think that nothing can beat the Garlic Shrimp Fettuccine,” he replied happily, leaning down towards Itachi to gesture to the menu.

“Hm,” Itachi hummed. “Fettucine? That sounds good.”

“I promise I could never steer you wrong,” Lundon responded, a little too coy for Kisame’s comfort.

“Thank you for the help,” Itachi replied lightly. “What was your name, again?”

“Lundon.” He wore a brilliant smile. “And yours?”

“Itachi. Thank you again for the recommendation.”

Once the chipper waiter left—with a little bounce in his step; wonder where _that_ came from—Itachi turned to Kisame with a cheeky smile.

“You think this is funny?” Kisame grunted, leaning forward. “I’ll bend you over the table and cover you in hickies right in front of him.”

Itachi nuzzled Kisame’s cheek. “Is that so. Do you think about bending me over a lot?”

Kisame shuddered.

Sasuke started throwing chunks of bread at Kisame’s head.

“Hey, don’t waste perfectly good food!” Suigetsu shouted, grabbing the loaf out of Sasuke’s hand.

“It’s unlimited,” he replied with a shrug.

Lundon came back with a flair, setting the drinks down with perfect memory. He leaned extra close to Itachi when he placed down the glass of water.

“Have you all settled on what you’re going to order?” He asked through a dazzling smile. Itachi didn’t miss that he was looking right at him.

“I’ll have the Mizithra and Brown Butter,” Itachi answered, holding out the menu. “My boyfriend promised me I would love it.”

“Ah,” Lundon replied, a little tightly. “That is also a fan favorite.”

“Aw, baby,” Kisame crooned. “You do listen to me.”

Lundon was a little deflated as he took the rest of the orders. His eyes kept flicking back to Itachi, but Kisame had a telling arm over the back of Itachi’s chair. He flicked the shark’s tooth necklace out of Itachi’s shirt so it could be visibly seen.

“Your possessive side is showing again,” Itachi murmured against his ear in between kisses to his jaw line.

Kisame’s hand found a nice spot to cling to right above Itachi’s iliac crest. “Is it? Maybe if you stopped flirting with cute blond waiters it would stay dormant.”

“Flirting? I was only polite.”

Kisame snorted. “You’re cruel. Actually making me feel bad for him a little bit.”

“Oh?” Itachi turned around in his chair. “I can call him back and make it up to him.”

Kisame gave him a nice hard squeeze. “Watch it.”

“If the two of you are done verbally fornicating,” Naruto drawled, ignoring the jab to the ribs Sasuke sent him, “I would like to propose a toast.”

Kisame leaned away, winning grin cemented on his face.

Naruto raised his glass of Dr. Pepper. “A toast to my incredible boyfriend, Sasuke, for bringing in that sweet cash money!”

Sasuke glared at him. “I’m not toasting to something that obnoxious.”

“Fine, fine,” Naruto conceded, waving a hand dismissively. “I guess I’m just,” he broke off with a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his head with a hand. “I’m really proud of Sasuke. He worked night and day on that essay, and he deserves it, y’know?” He smiled. “I’m just. So happy for you. Both of you.”

Sasuke snorted to hide his genuine smile.  “Well, then, uh—I’d like to make a toast, too.” He cleared his throat a little. “To my brother. Because this is his victory as much as mine. I’d be nothing without him.”

“That’s not true,” Itachi murmured. “You would be every ounce as brilliant and dedicated. You just wouldn’t have any clean clothes to wear, since you can’t figure out how to do the laundry.”

Kisame snickered.

Itachi smiled. “How about—a toast. To brighter futures and better fortune.”

The happy sound of their glasses clinking was just a little bit hollow.

Kisame and Suigetsu could be quite a tag team, it was quickly discovered, when they worked together to rib someone. The banter was almost ceaseless, and Itachi wasn’t going to even _pretend_ that he could keep up, so he resigned himself to watching and smiling. 

It wasn’t terribly long—at least, not for an order of their size—for the waiter to return with seven heaping plates of pasta. He set Itachi’s down last, with a sly, “let me know if you’d like to change your order. There’s plenty more I could offer you.”

Itachi decided that was just a _little_ bit over the line.

The food was good—warm and hearty, and it filled Itachi’s stomach well. Kisame seemed satisfied with how much Itachi was enjoying it.

The only thing that could be better than the food was Kisame’s heavy hand on his thigh, the laughter bouncing from Naruto to Kisame to Suigetsu, the melody of forks tapping against plates and the calm swirl of water glasses being refilled.

There was something about the seven of them together that warmed Itachi’s heart. Sasuke…well, Sasuke was Sasuke, and Itachi loved everything about him. Naruto’s ceaseless energy and almost overbearing positivity was endearing. Suigetsu could be kind of dull sometimes, and a bit too abrasive and belligerent for Itachi to always get along with, but the kid had a good heart and respected and cared for his friends. Karin was fiery and strong willed; she smacked (often literally) Suigetsu back into place when he got too rude or rowdy. Juugo was like a mountain, quiet and strong with his gentle smiles and simple interjections, but sturdy and dependable no matter what.

And looking around at the table, at all of their happy faces, Itachi felt…at peace, truly and fully relaxed, for one of the first times in years. And when his eyes landed on Kisame...everything just clicked together a little bit.

Kisame was the last puzzle piece to complete the full picture of their motley little family.

Itachi rested his chin on his hand, looking over to the side. His gaze traced over Kisame’s grin, carefully watched the way he licked rich sauce off of his thumb and laughed at something Naruto said from the other side of the table.

“I love you so much,” Itachi said softly, reaching forward with his fingers to brush Kisame’s arm.

Kisame looked over, eyes bright, the chuckle gradually leaving his throat. “Did you say something, babe?”

Itachi bit a smile between his teeth. “I said that you still have sauce on your face, you giant oaf.” He reached forward, pulling the napkin off of his lap. He rubbed his against Kisame’s cheek, pausing at the tattoos that slanted across his cheekbone.

“You take such good care of me,” Kisame crooned, twisting another mound of pasta around his fork.

“I know.” He refolded the napkin. “This is why you’re never supposed to take your date out for spaghetti.”

“You’re not my date, though.”

Itachi raised an eyebrow. “I’m not?”

“Nope.” Kisame’s grin just wasn’t going away today. “You’re my boyfriend. Big difference, ya know? A _date_ is someone you’re still trying to convince to commit to you. A boyfriend is already in too deeply, despite your spaghetti eating methods.” He shoved the pasta in his mouth.

“Thank goodness you’ve already secured me,” Itachi muttered a little playfully, reaching back up with the napkin. “You’re a mess.”

Kisame grinned again, with his eyes, too, this time; Itachi swore he could feel his whole entire heart melt and relocate somewhere around the vicinity of his spleen.

The waiter appeared, then, and Kisame leaned over to sloppily kiss Itachi on the cheek. Itachi permitted it, even played along when he nuzzled up against his jaw.

This time Lundon didn’t say anything when he set the bill down in front of it.

Kisame was laughing heartily at something Karin said when he brandished his shiny silver credit card.

“Hey,” Itachi started, reaching for it. “No.”

“Babe,” Kisame chuckled, “don’t even try. You won’t win this one.”

Itachi tugged childishly on Kisame’s arm. “Let me help pay for it.”

“I _told_ you this way my treat,” Kisame replied good-naturedly.

Itachi wrinkled his nose. “I’m the one that just won ten grand; this should definitely be my tab.”

Kisame sighed dramatically. “ _Fine_ ,” he groaned, dragging the word out. “I’ll let you pay for some of it.” He got a gleam in his eyes, and Itachi knew he had a smart remark before he even said it. “Just the tip?”

Itachi leaned back into his chair. “Why do I expect anything of you anymore?”

Kisame grinned and tossed him the black bill folder. “I can’t tell you that.” He leaned over the armrest of his chair, kissing Itachi firmly on the temple. “I’m so happy for you, baby.”

Itachi leaned into his touch. “Thank you. Will you properly congratulate me at home?” He asked, tilting his head invitingly.

Kisame gave him a chaste kiss. “Just the tip?”

Itachi snorted.

They were interrupted by a waitress with a brown ponytail setting a plate of pasta in front of Itachi. “Spinach Ravioli with cream sauce for you,” she said with a sweet smile. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

Itachi blinked at the dish, suddenly unable to speak. As if she had fucking injected him with antifreeze, he just went cold. His stomach, his hands, his mouth. Cold.

“Uh—” Kisame started, looking confused, “we didn’t order this.”

“Hm?” The waitress tilted her head. “No, I definitely have an order for this. Are you certain?”

Kisame held up the bill. “Yeah—we’ve already received our bill and everything.”

Itachi stared at plate in front of him. _No, no, no no no nonono—_

The waitress was frowning. “Oh, well…would you like it anyways? I won’t be able to serve it to anyone else.”

“Will we be charged for it?” Kisame asked.

The waitress shrugged. “No, I guess not. It must have been a ghost order—they happen sometimes.”

Kisame chuckled. “It’s just our day, then, huh, Itachi? Could you box it up for us? We—”

“I don’t want it,” Itachi said suddenly, turning his head to Kisame.

“Just take it home and eat it later—”

“I hate ravioli,” Itachi pressed, a little abruptly. His fingers were tight on the top of the desk. “I don’t want it, I’m not taking it home.”

Kisame tilted his head. “Babe, are you okay?”

Itachi’s eyes flicked around the curious faces around the table staring at him. “I just really don’t want it, Kisame.”

“Well—”

“Hell, I’ll take it!” Suigetsu shouted suddenly. “Box that shit up! I’m not going to waste perfectly good food.”

Karin smacked him up the back of the head. “Don’t be rude, asshole!”

The waiter gave a confused smile, looking to Kisame for direction—since he was the only one acting normal (for a change). “I’ll get you a box and be right back. Would you like me to take your bill with me?”

“That would be fantastic,” Kisame replied, eyes on Itachi. “Thank you.”

As soon as the waitress walked away, Kisame slipped a worried hand across Itachi’s upper back. “Itachi, what’s wrong? You just got all closed up all the sudden.”

Itachi met his eyes calmly. “Nothing’s wrong. I just…really hate ravioli,” he explained, shrugging one shoulder.

“Shit, did you almost choke to death on it?”

Itachi only shrugged again.

As soon as the waitress came back and returned Kisame’s credit card, Itachi stood up. Suigetsu thanked both him and Kisame for the free food with a set of slaps on the back.

Kisame set a hand on Itachi’s hip as they walked off, but Itachi suddenly grabbed it and pulled it forward until Kisame’s arm was around his waist. Kisame raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn’t complain.

Obviously.

They said their goodbyes in the parking lot. Itachi hugged Karin and Suigetsu and nodded to Juugo before they climbed into Suigetsu’s car.

“I hope all of you live another day,” Kisame called out after them.

Suigetsu flipped them off through the window.

Itachi tried not to be a spy as Sasuke and Naruto said goodbye. Naruto had his arms locked around Sasuke, hands clasped against his back. He kissed his jaw and knocked their foreheads together.

Itachi felt arms wrap around his middle. “Jealous?” Kisame asked in his ear, kissing at the very top of his cheekbone, right under his eye.

“No,” Itachi replied casually.

Kisame frowned and squeezed him a little. “Baby, tell me what’s gotten into you all the sudden.”

Itachi sighed, dragging a hand over his face. He suddenly felt very, very tired. “Nothing. I just—I got exhausted all of the sudden.” He turned around in his arms, sliding his hands against Kisame’s thick, sinewy neck. “Will you take me home?” He kissed his nose. “And maybe spend the night?” He needed Kisame: needed his strong arms that made him feel safe, needed his throaty laugh that made him feel warm.

“Ah, shit, baby. Why do you have to tempt me like that?” He moved his hands around to Itachi’s arms, running them up and down the soft cotton of his shirt. “I have to be in early tomorrow, so I can’t stay the night.”

“Oh.” Itachi frowned, shoulder slumping a little. “That’s fine.”

“Sorry, babe,” Kisame muttered into Itachi’s hair. “I’ll take you home, though, of course.”

Neither Itachi nor Kisame said much on the ride home. Itachi’s mood was still subdued, but Sasuke was surprisingly talkative, and filled some of the empty air. It was pretty merited, given the weight of his newest accomplishment and the airy feeling that _finally_ he and Itachi would have their financial heads above water for a good while.

Sasuke quietly left the truck when Kisame pulled into the lot of their apartment, giving the two of them some space.

Kisame took Itachi’s hand and gave him a hard squeeze. “You’re starting to make me worry about you.”

“Don’t do that,” Itachi replied quietly, rubbing his thumb over Kisame’s knuckles. “There’s nothing wrong.”

“I feel like you’re lying to me,” Kisame grunted. “You know I don’t like that.”

“I’m not lying,” Itachi said. “I don’t want to make a big deal out of something not worth fussing over.”

Kisame’s eyes were scrutinizing.

Itachi sagged against the seat, running a tired hand over the bangs sweeping along the side of his forehead. “Trust me. You trust me, right?”

Kisame paused, eventually relaxing with a sigh. “Yes, baby, you know it. I trust you.”

“Thank you,” Itachi murmured. He leaned forward and kissed Kisame’s temple. “Thank you for the meal and the ride home. Drive safe and sleep well. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah,” Kisame replied. He grabbed Itachi’s hand as he stepped out of the truck. “Promise me if it—whatever this is—gets worse that you’ll tell me?”

He managed a little smile. “I promise.”

Itachi’s stomach felt like acid as he walked behind Sasuke to their apartment.

He would chop off his left foot if it meant this _wasn’t_ what he thought it was.

\--

_Hey. What are you doing tonight?_

Itachi glanced over at his phone when he heard the buzz on the countertop. He shook the suds off of his hands from the soapy dishwasher and wiped the remaining water on his jeans as he crossed the room. He tilted his head with a small smile when he read the text.

_Why?_

_You’re so cheeky. Can I take you out to dinner? There’s this little brick oven pizza place over in Goldbrook that just opened._

Itachi let his smile take full form. _Goldbrook? That’s close. So would you be picking me up in your motorcycle, then?_

_Why does it matter?_

_I was only wondering if we could make out on the hood of your truck again or not._

_Is that what you’re still thinking about? I’m sure we could find another place to make out. We could find another place to do a lot more, too._

Just then Sasuke came walking down the hall. “Hey, Nii-san, I’m gonna go hang out with Naruto and his friends.”

Itachi blinked. “Of course. What time are you leaving?”

“Now, I think,” he replied, shoving his feet into his shoes. “We’re gonna grab a bite and hit a movie, last I checked.”

“That sounds fine.” He glanced at his phone. “What time are you planning to be done? I don’t want you taking a bus home for so long that late at night alone, so Suigetstu will need to drop you off, okay?”

Sasuke scratched the back of his head. “Actually, a bunch of us were gonna crash at Naruto’s afterwards.”

Itachi hummed. “Oh, so you’re already spending the night with Naruto now—”

“Nii-san!” Sasuke practically screeched. “What the fuck!”

“What? With how much you hassle me about my sex life, I can’t even make a comment on yours?”

“It’s—it’s a group thing! Why would you even say that!”

“A _group_ thing? Sasuke, I’m not going to judge your lifestyle, but are you sure—”

Sasuke covered his ears. “I hate Kisame. You were never this lewd before you started dating him.”

Itachi smirked. “It’s alright, little brother. I’m only teasing you because you didn’t tell me that you’d already done it.”

Sasuke stared at him, something of a mortified expression on his face.

“If you needed condoms, you could have just _asked_ instead of stealing mine.”

Sasuke’s face was red. “What, you count your condoms now? Besides, it isn’t like you use them.”

“By choice,” Itachi sniffed. “And I don’t count them, but I don’t have _any_ left. Should have known, what with how energetic Naruto is.”

“Oh my god.” Sasuke gripped the counter. “I’m never letting him come over ever again _ever_.”

Itachi laughed. “Lighten up. I won’t say anything in front of him.” Well, that wasn’t true, but it was a big brother’s job to make those comments, wasn’t it? “You’ve been washing the sheets, though, haven’t you? It can get quite unpleasant if you don’t—”

“Leaving, leaving right now.”

Itachi laughed. “I’m only trying to look out for you! I’ll get you more condoms. Do you need lube, too? You’ll regret it immensely if you don’t use it, I don’t want you in that type of pain.”

“ _Of course_ we use lube, what do you think—wait, who the fuck says _I’m_ on the bottom?”

Itachi rolled his eyes. “Brother knows best, Sasuke. Besides, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Sasuke stared at him for a moment, blush still smeared across his cheeks. “We _switch_. Unlike you, you nosy fucking twink.”

“Watch your mouth,” Itachi reprimanded with a smirk. “Have fun tonight. Don’t do anything in a place where you’ll get caught.”

“We’re not going to—! Never _mind_. I’ll see you later.” He slammed the door behind him.

Itachi chuckled. “I love you!” He called after him.

He turned back to his phone. _Well, as luck would have it, my evening just totally cleared. When do you want to meet?_

_At your house. I’m picking you up._

_Kisame, that’s quite a bit of gas. I don’t expect you to do that. The bus really is no trouble for me, you know that._

_And miss a chance to feel your body pressed up against me for 20 minutes? Yeah, I really want to pick you up._

Itachi flipped his hair over his shoulder. _So, I’ll meet you there at 6 then?_

_You are a cruel mistress._

_I’m kidding._

_Good. I’ll be out your house at 5:45. Wear something that makes your ass look good, yeah?_

_See you soon, Kisame._

About an hour later, Itachi stood in front of his closet, frowning at his clothes. _Wear something that makes your ass look good, yeah?_ He twisted his lips. He had never so badly wanted Kisame to find him attractive then he did in that moment, standing in front of his closet, trying to find something to wear. Something that would drive Kisame mad, something that would keep those hands and lips on his skin….

Good thing he had exactly three and a half outfits to choose from.

He ended up sitting on the couch, fiddling with his necklace and flicking through his phone when the knock sounded on his door. He hopped up, swinging it open with a neutral expression.

Kisame was wearing worn jeans, an ocean blue tank with shark prints on it, and flip flops. His piercings caught the light just right, and his grin and those _tattoos_ —

“Hey, hot stuff,” he greeted, looking Itachi up and down.

“Hello,” Itachi said, closing the door and turning around to lock it.

“Ah, I see you listened to my request,” came an appreciative voice behind him.

Itachi whirled around. “Eyes up,” he commanded. What, he wasn’t going to admit how much he liked that.

Kisame made a show of dragging his eyes up to make contact. “You look good, I mean it.”

“I’m wearing nothing special,” Itachi responded, curling his fingers around Kisame’s thick arm and directing him towards the motorcycle.

“I know. You always look good. Your ass would look good in a paper bag.”

Itachi rolled his eyes, picking up the helmet and beginning to fasten it around his head.

“Hey, now, don’t I at least get a kiss?” Kisame asked jovially. He was in a good mood, Itachi could tell.

Itachi paused. “Yes, if you’d like.”

“I’d always like,” he muttered in reply, taking the helmet from Itachi’s hands and setting it back on the bike seat so he could pull their bodies together. He pressed their lips together, one hand on Itachi’s hip, the other grasping the soft skin of his face and curling around his jaw. Itachi let his hands run up that chest that did so many different things to his mind, kissing him slowly and letting his lips slip open.

Kisame pulled away after a bit with a chuckle, sliding a thumb across Itachi’s lips.

“You’re in a good mood,” Itachi commented his thoughts, leveling his voice so he wouldn’t sound breathless.

“I got to see you again,” was the warm reply.

Well, if that didn’t just make Itachi’s heart a little jumpy.

Kisame gave him another chaste kiss on the lips and then picked the helmet back up, fastening it on to Itachi’s head. The frown he got in return was so cute he pushed his luck by learning forward for another kiss.

Twenty minutes later, Kisame had his arm looped around Itachi’s waist and was leading him through a parking lot permeated with the scent of smoky dough and into a restaurant built with ashy brick and rich wood. They got a secluded booth in a corner, quiet, just how Itachi liked.

Dinner was light and buzzing with jokes and banter. Kisame’s ocean eyes were bright, and Itachi swore that he never stopped grinning once. Itachi reached his hand across the table without even thinking about it about halfway through the meal, and Kisame pushed his fingers in between his almost instinctively. Itachi didn’t even bother hiding his smile in his water glass anymore; he would never stop doing it if he did. He lost count of how many times Kisame’s words got lost on his ears because he couldn’t focus on anything besides Kisame’s grin and the look in his eyes. Itachi may have leaned forward a few times for spontaneous kisses, just maybe. And _somehow_ by the time the desert menu came around, he ended up with his elbow on the table, head in his hand like a love struck idiot.

He was a love struck idiot.

His chest felt like it was leaking helium. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so…light. Itachi always felt a heaviness wrapped around him, ever since he was a child. But Kisame seemed to be strong enough to almost completely erase it.

No one else could do that, he realized.

And he couldn’t remember ever being so happy.

He was so, so, so in love; gods, nothing else felt quite so good, did it?

Kisame was in the middle of a story about how he and Suigetsu got caught in a riptide when he went surfing by the time Itachi slipped the last of the ice cream between his lips. The bill had already been paid for and was sitting at the edge of the table, split between them per Itachi’s insistence.

“—and we got away fine, but fuck, Suigetsu was so messed up he still won’t even go in the ocean and—’

“Kisame, do you have lubricant at your house?”

For the first time all evening, Kisame’s face went completely blank. “…what?”

Itachi gave a little smile. “Lube? Do you have it?”

“…yeah.”

Itachi stood up. “Good,” he said, brushing off his pants. “Let’s go, then.”

Kisame blinked, still seated. “Go where,” he asked slowly.

Itachi tried to suppress a smirk. “To your house,” he replied, annunciating each syllable.

Kisame let the information sink in for a second. He bored a very intense gaze into Itachi’s eyes. “Are you serious?”

Itachi raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like I am joking?”

Kisame jumped up. “Let’s go.”

Itachi slipped his arm around Kisame’s, walking close to him as they left the restaurant. He kept feeling Kisame’s arm flex and tense, which made him snicker under his breath. 

The ride home was…tense, but it didn’t at all bother Itachi. He felt very comfortable molded against Kisame’s back, and he was thoroughly enjoying seeing Kisame flounder for once. Kisame drove much faster than normal, as well, he noted. And that was saying something.

As Kisame pulled into his driveway, Itachi began to press kisses to his neck, Kisame muttering something that was drowned out by the grumbling of the motorcycle beneath them. He pulled slowly into his garage and shut the bike down. Itachi hopped off lithely, pulling his helmet up and off of his head. He tugged his hair band out and shook his hair out around his face, running a hand through it to dispel his helmet hair.

“Fuck, Itachi,” Kisame mumbled, watching hair like ink spill over and around that flawless, pale skin. “Baby…”

Itachi held a hand out, smiling honestly. “Lead the way,” he instructed.

Kisame’s large hand grasped his. He quickly hit the garage door button and led Itachi inside of his house. He wasted no time, immediately heading towards the stairs and nearly running to the second floor.

“Wait,” Itachi laughed, nearly stumbling in the wake of Kisame’s haste, his other hand coming up to hold onto the back of Kisame’s shirt.

When they got to Kisame’s bedroom, he turned and put both of his hands on Itachi’s face. “You want this?” he asked, pushing dark, wayward hair behind Itachi’s ear, looking him in the eyes, “for sure?”

Itachi hummed, sliding his hands around Kisame’s neck. “For sure,” he murmured in reply, pushing himself up onto his toes, asking for a kiss. He didn’t know if it would be a good idea to let Kisame know just how _badly_ he wanted it in that moment. How many times he had almost given in and just _barely_ got his senses about him.

Kisame complied hurriedly, molding their lips together. His hands moved to Itachi’s hips and hoisted him up like he weighed nothing; Itachi bit his lower lip hard in defiance, but locked his legs around Kisame’s hips anyway, pushing his slender hands into Kisame’s blue hair, nipping at Kisame’s lips until he could slip his tongue inside his mouth. Kisame walked carefully into his bedroom, reached his bed, and rather ungracefully plopped down, Itachi tumbling against him.

Itachi settled himself on top of Kisame just a little awkwardly, one of Kisame’s large hands grasping at his back. One arm was bent, elbow keeping him upright. His other hand cupped Kisame’s cheek.

“Uh,” Kisame started, pulling back just a little so he could look him in the eyes. “What—what do you want to do? Like, everything?”

Itachi blinked. “You mean, do I want you to fuck me?”

Kisame’s eyes got murky, but other than that he didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond, maybe. “Uh—that, yeah,” he eventually managed.

“You know,” Itachi said, almost conversationally, “you make sex jokes on the hour, practically. I would have never guessed that you would freeze up like this.”

“I’m not freezing up,” Kisame defended in mumble. “I just—”

“I get it,” Itachi soothed, wondering where all of his confidence was coming from when he was internally _screaming_ with nerves. “I’ve made this far too anticipated, haven’t I?”

Itachi pushed himself into Kisame’s lap, setting his legs gently against the side of his partner’s.

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” Kisame breathed, running his hands up and down Itachi’s waist, trying to loosen him up, trying to loosen himself up.

“Hopefully not too many,” Itachi murmured, adjusting his position on Kisame’s lap, fitting them together in all the right places, “or else I might not be as good as your fantasies.”

Kisame shook his head, pushing his face into Itachi’s neck and biting at his throat. “You’re perfect,” he whispered in a voice that nearly sounded like a prayer. “Itachi, you’re perfect.”

“No, I’m not,” Itachi insisted, letting his head tilt back so Kisame’s tongue could do as it pleased. In fact, he was so incredibly _im_ perfect, he wondered how Kisame could ever say otherwise. But then Kisame’s teeth found purchase on a spot under his jaw, and Itachi couldn’t wonder about much at all, besides where else he could get Kisame to put his mouth. He grabbed one of Kisame’s hands and moved it to his ass, needy for more touches.

“You’re perfect for me,” Kisame replied, grabbing a handful around his jeans and squeezing in a way that made Itachi twitch. Kisame put his other hand on Itachi’s chest, grasping onto him like he would die if he didn’t.

Itachi began rolling his hips slightly, tentatively—and of course a bit uncoordinated due to his lack of practice and skill—but desperate for some of the _tension_ to let up. All the while he did his best pressing kisses against Kisame’s rough face and jaw, strong hands running up his back. When those hands reached the back of his head, Kisame pulled his face away and pushed their lips together again. They kissed like that, Itachi rocking his hips into Kisame, who gratefully spread his legs open a little to better fit against him.

He pulled away, Kisame’s tongue slipping out of his mouth, lips wet with their combined saliva. He pushed his hands up the sides of Kisame’s arms, feeling those muscles under his skin like warm steel wrapped in silk. Kisame bit his lips in restraint, letting Itachi’s hands continue their journey as they pleased. Itachi reached his chest and said, just a little breathlessly from all the kissing, “your heart is beating so fast."

“Yeah,” Kisame responded, having no other response since he had much more productive ideas of what he could be doing with his tongue.

“I want you naked,” Itachi murmured, slipping his hands under the edge of Kisame’s shirt, tilting his head to the side.

“Your wish is my command,” he replied easily, words thrumming with excitement, eyes not leaving Itachi face. He very lightly pushed Itachi back, so he would put his weight against his heels and give Kisame room to pull his shirt over his head.  Itachi’s hands immediately pressed all over his chest and stomach. He pushed Kisame down to lie on his back, so his venturous hands could do what they wished; needless to say, Kisame was more than willing. Itachi’s eyes ran all over Kisame’s exposed skin, tongue running over his lips for a moment. _Those tattoos._ The tips of his fingers traced across his skin until they slid down to the band of his jeans, where those inky black lines disappeared.

He leaned down abruptly, pushing Kisame’s arms up so his hands were in surrender under his head, and licked a line up on dark streak on Kisame’s chest. He followed the intricate pattern with his tongue, hearing Kisame curse bellow him. He pressed himself hard into Kisame’s groin, the pressure more a tease than any sort of release, feeling himself heat up as he licked another long trail around the curve of Kisame’s muscle. He could feel the flexing tension in Kisame’s wrist as he tried to control his movements. When Itachi was done playing with Kisame’s tattoos—for now, at least, because he could literally do it all day—he leaned his head down, delicately catching one of the rings through Kisame’s nipple between his teeth and tugging on it.

“Oh, oh,” Kisame groaned, thrusting his hips up hard into Itachi’s, jerking his entire body. Itachi melted just a little, eyes hooding as he tugged again, because those hips were _strong_ , and the implications of just what exactly Kisame could do to his body with that type of power made him all sorts of weak.

He pressed one thumb against the other silver nipple ring, sitting back up, if only just because Kisame wasn’t naked enough yet. His lips were wet, and the light caught them just the right way, and Kisame had to grab onto the comforter to keep himself from trying to get his dick between those pretty lips.

 Itachi was almost completely hard at this point, and Kisame was too, his bulge rubbing Itachi in the most wonderful way. He grinded down on him, a little clumsily, brow furrowed because _damn._ He knew that he was supposed to be undressing his lover, but how was he supposed to concentrate on anything when what he was doing felt so good? In one of the hardest decisions of his life—at least, it felt that way—Itachi stilled his hips in favor of revealing more of that delicious skin, and he began to unbutton Kisame’s pants.

Kisame leaned up and kissed the side of that milky pale face, lifting his hips so that Itachi could pull his jeans off more easily. Itachi stared down at his tented blue boxers, lip caught between his teeth.

“See something you like?” Kisame asked gruffly, the teasing tone lost in how lusty his voice was.

Itachi hummed, fingers slipping around his erection and squeezing slightly. Kisame let out a grunt, falling back down onto the bed, digging his hands into Itachi’s waist. Itachi glanced back up at him as his fingers edged under the cotton fabric and dipped down to feel _skin_ , shirking the incredibly unneeded underwear off.

“Fuck,” Kisame muttered, pushing himself up on his arms again to watch those pale fingers curled around his length start to move. “Itachi….”

Itachi’s eyes flicked back up to him, leaning forward to receive more kisses, free hand tangling in blue hair.

“Take your clothes off,” Kisame growled around his lips. Itachi pulled a hairsbreadth away from Kisame’s mouth, swallowed, and then leaned back again. “For fucks sake, I’m going to die if you don’t.”

“Here,” he said softly, lifting his arms so Kisame could pull his shirt off. And he did, immediately, his strong hands grasping as much skin as he could, Itachi’s fingers returning to his cock. “Although, I would wager you are being a little over dramatic.”

“Let’s not find out.”

It was hard for Kisame to focus on any one thing, with Itachi’s hands on his dick and his nude torso revealed to him. He leaned forward, trying to kiss and bite all the skin available to him. Itachi’s fingers tightened around him and Kisame felt his whole body twitch in response. He chuckled as Itachi fidgeted in his lap, clearly enjoying the special type of attention.

“And your pants,” he prompted, jerking his hips up and into Itachi. Itachi bit his lip, hands very reluctantly and slowly leaving Kisame’s hair and cock. He popped his button and tugged down the zipper down, and then leaned forward into Kisame again so Kisame could do the honors, putting their lips together. Because damn Kisame was a good kisser.

Kisame eagerly tugged Itachi’s pants off, supporting his weight so Itachi could get his legs out. Itachi immediately settle back onto Kisame, rocking slightly into his lap as they kissed, grinding his clothed erection against Kisame’s bare one, heat spreading through his body.

“You’re being such a fucking _tease_ , Itachi,” Kisame hissed, thinking secretly that the naked skin of Itachi’s chest felt marvelous against his. “Even when we’re having sex, I can’t get you undressed.” He groaned a little as he slipped his hands over Itachi’s underwear to squeeze his ass. “Baby, have mercy.”

Itachi paused from the trail of kisses he was planting along Kisame’s jaw, his hips stilling. “So demanding,” he lilted. He quickly slipped his boxer briefs off, and Kisame’s eyes locked onto the newly revealed skin.

“Itachi,” Kisame groaned, “I want to touch you.”

“Then touch me,” he replied, easily, pushing his dark hair out of his face and meeting his gaze with those endless eyes, and Kisame thought suddenly thought that he could be some kind of god he was so beautiful. And for a moment, he didn’t deserve him, Itachi was too beautiful, too wonderful, and who was Kisame in comparison to Itachi?

But Itachi had that quietly patient look on his face, and a lust in his eyes that made Kisame’ body hum. Itachi fingers were flittering around his skin and the edge of his hair, waiting and encouraging. Kisame knew that Itachi didn’t let people close to him easily, and he didn’t waste his time on those that weren’t worth it. And Kisame trusted him unconditionally.

“Touch me,” Itachi repeated gently, words nudging Kisame out of his daze.

So Kisame did, first sliding his hands down Itachi’s waist and across his hips, then down the tops of his thighs. His hands continued their travel around, cupping the backs of his thighs and moving up to finally grip at his ass. His hands played with the skin there for a bit before slipping back around to tug at his cock. Itachi bit his lips again, hips continuing their previous movement. Both of his hands gripped Kisame’s face to kiss him as his lover pressed their cocks together.

“Shit,” Itachi mumbled, back stiffening as Kisame tugged on him.

“What’s wrong?” Kisame asked, pushing kisses against Itachi’s jawline, carefully moving them together.

“Absolutely nothing,” Itachi replied as his eyelids fluttered. “Kisame,” he said around a swallow as he started moving his hips again.

“Fuck, say that again,” Kisame grunted.

“Your name?”

“Uh—yeah.” Kisame gripped both Itachi’s hips—biting Itachi’s lips when he protested the release of his dick—to control the motions of their grinding.

Itachi let out a little noise, fumbling down at their connected groins. “Kisame…” he said again, one hand tightening on Kisame’s shoulder. He leaned over then, ignoring Kisame’s protesting noise when his cock slipped out of his grasp, and dug through Kisame’s bedside drawer until he snagged the lube. “Here,” he murmured, popping the cap and taking Kisame’s hand. He straddled Kisame’s lap again, pressing tight against him. Kisame had that grin on his face again. He slid a slippery finger down Itachi’s back and, when he reached his entrance, slowly pushed it inside.

Itachi stayed very still for a minute or two, getting used to the feeling. When he felt comfortable he resumed his rocking, the pleasant friction replacing the uncomfortable sensation of Kisame’s large finger moving around inside of him.

Kisame worked slowly but thoroughly, watching Itachi’s face carefully for signals if he was in any sort of pain or not. Eventually he eased three fingers in and moved them around, sliding them in and out, figuring out which movements made Itachi stiffen and arch. He gently stretched him, taking very careful note of Itachi’s body language, slowing down if Itachi looked at all uncomfortable, repeating his motions if he looked pleasured. Itachi had a very fun ass to play with, and a million thoughts of what he could and hopefully would do to it in the future flashed through his mind.

Kisame furrowed his brow, wiggling his fingers around, looking for—

“Stop!” Itachi shouted suddenly, slamming his hand onto Kisame’s bicep.

“What, what—!” Kisame looked up at him with wide eyes, freezing in fear that _holy shit what did he do wrong, oh god did he hurt him._

But Itachi’s fingers were twitching around Kisame’s arms, and his head was leaning back.

“Are you okay—”

“ _What_ was that?” His voice was half of a moan, as if he was intent on finding the answer, but also pretty desperate for Kisame to repeat the action again and again and again and—well, yeah.

Kisame paused, and then tilted his head to the side. “What was…this?”

Itachi’s groan broke off into something more high pitched as he twitched. “Yes, that,” he choked, pushing forward suddenly to grind his forehead against Kisame’s.

Kisame ran his finger across the smooth little button. “Want me to do it again?”

Itachi didn’t move, very stubbornly and defiantly refusing to answer.

“I’m not gonna do anything until you tell me, babe.” Someday, Kisame was going to have Itachi begging for him. _Someday_.

Itachi sent him a pleading glance, but relented with a squeeze shut of his eyes. “Yes, ‘Same, again.”

He pressed his finger down.  “So this is all new to you?”

“Stop making fun of me,” Itachi muttered, pushing against Kisame’s chest gently. “Okay, that’s good, that’s enough. Just…keep going.” He swallowed. “With the rest of it.”

Kisame grinned, pressing against Itachi’s sweet spot one more time, reveling and the sudden jerk and little noise it elicited, before he slid his fingers out completely. He then scooted himself back, keeping a hand on Itachi’s hip. Laying back against the pillows, he let his hand lazily slide up and down his cock as Itachi pushed himself onto his knees.

Itachi shirked forward, one hand hard on Kisame’s chest, the other replacing Kisame’s hand on the larger man’s cock with his own. “This may take a few minutes,” he reminded, and Kisame nodded, eyes locked on Itachi’s long hair that swayed behind him as he positioned himself.

“I’m here all night,” Kisame grinned.

“ _All_ night?” Itachi joked, carefully moving himself appropriately and starting to sink down.

“Oh,” Kisame groaned as the head of his cock was enveloped. “Oh.”

It took a bit, but Itachi managed to work his way down until he could sit again on Kisame’s lap. Kisame was breathing _very_ deliberately and precisely, fingers like iron on Itachi’s hips. “Oh, fuck babe, fuck, fuck, fuck….” His legs stretched and stiffened, muscles on his stomach quivering.

Itachi let out a breathless chuckle, concentrating hard on staying relaxed and adjusting. Kisame was…definitely not average sized, and he certainly wasn’t used to having a cock pushed inside of him.

But oh, oh. Oh, it was nice.

“Fuck _me_ , we haven’t even really started and this is already ten times better than what I imagined….”

“Better? Already?” Itachi let out. “I’m not even good at this. Maybe it’s been just as long for you as it has been for me.”

“No,” Kisame mumbled. “It’s because it’s you.”

Itachi paused at that, wanting to bend down to kiss Kisame for the comment; if he did that, though, Kisame’s cock would slip out of him and he would have to start all over. He began to move his hips from side to side, slowly. Kisame skirted his fingers up and down Itachi’s hips, trying to channel his urge to push upwards. Itachi got a nice rhythm, swaying his hips and body side to side as Kisame stiffened and twitched below him. He relocated one hand to Itachi’s cock, rubbing at the tip and pulling back his foreskin. Itachi’s hair brushed around him as he rolled his hips, lip between his teeth again and eyes fluttering shut.

“For fucks sake, can you _move_?” Kisame near begged, muscles clenched way too hard in his attempt to keep still.

Itachi let out some sort of breathy noise—maybe it was supposed to be a snort, or maybe a laugh; either way, his composure was already slipping—and began to roll his hips in little circles, hair spilling around his neck and sticking with sweat to his forehead, breath catching—okay, _maybe_ it was more like tiny little gasps—every time Kisame pressed up inside him against his prostate. He let Kisame slip out of him and back in _just_ a little bit, enough to be a tease but not enough to grant Kisame any real pleasure.

And enough to get him used to it because. Shit. He wasn’t.

“I’m gonna lose my mind,” Kisame muttered, “if you don’t start fucking _moving.”_

“What exactly does this look like to you?” Itachi asked, rolling his hips faster. But, he had mercy, (besides, he was growing impatient as well) and finding grip on both of Kisame’s shoulders, pushed himself up and let himself slide back down. Kisame helped, lifting Itachi by his waist and letting gravity do the rest. Itachi guessed his weight was almost indiscernible to Kisame’s strong arms. With Kisame moving him up, and Itachi rocking his hips like he did, Kisame damn near thought he would pass out. 

Itachi’s bit both of his lips, facial expression cinching. His breath hitched and his hand slipped and jerked off of Kisame’s well defined chest and—“ _Fuck_ ,” he choked, pushing himself back up off of his elbow.

“Oh,” Kisame said throatily. “You gonna keep talking like that?”

“Hmm?” Itachi’s eyes were squeezed shut, and his movements were slipping.

“Open your eyes, baby,” Kisame said in a scratchy voice, removing a hand from Itachi’s waist to push hair away from his face and behind his neck.

Itachi shook his head, sitting in Kisame’s lap.

“Baby,” Kisame nearly purred. “Look at me. Come on.”

It took a few seconds, squirming slightly, until he opened one dark eye.

“Are you uncomfortable?” Kisame asked, rubbing a soothing thumb against his wrist.

“No,” Itachi wrinkled his nose. “No, I—mmnf.”

Kisame grinned. “Here, baby,” he said, sliding his hands around the soft skin of Itachi’s hips. “Just gotta get a rhythm.” He helped coax Itachi back up, internally reveling in the feeling, and eased him back down. Later, later when they had more experience in their movements, in the ways they could shift and rub and fuck their bodies together, later Kisame would teach him how to roll his hips, how to tighten at the right times and how to nearly dance on him. Later, he would have Itachi practice on him all through the night, until they were both seeing stars. Later, he would keep a tight hand around the base of Itachi’s dick and have him ride himself to completion. Later, he would watch Itachi fall apart on top of him.

But this wasn’t later, this was now, and Itachi was still warring with himself—with his ever so masterfully crafted composure, with his insecurities, with his inexperience. This was now, and it was supposed to be meaningful and beautiful and Kisame realized that _maybe_ Itachi’s collected attitude beforehand was just a front to shield Kisame from the nervousness he was feeling.

Itachi’s eyes, which had been alternating between closed and staring at Kisame’s chest, flicked up and met his.

“So good,” Kisame murmured, breath sporadic. “You’re doing so good, baby.”

“Well,” Itachi grunted. “Good is an—adjective.” His face screwed up again and he shuddered, but Kisame could tell he was getting into the groove of it all.

“Yeah, baby. That too.”

Once Itachi got fully adjusted and started to move more quickly and smoothly, Kisame began to thrust up with those powerful hips of his, pushing in with more force. The longer it went on the more useless Itachi became, exerting more of his energy into gripping onto his lover for dear life than moving in sync with him.

“Kisame,” Itachi let himself say again, one part because Kisame’s name felt good on his lips, the other because he knew Kisame liked it so much, as he began to bite at Itachi’s neck. “Oh—!” a moan caught in his throat and he arched his back and neck, hair a cascade of black ink behind him. Even when Itachi lost grip and rhythm, Kisame’s hips still snapped up. Itachi relished in the movement, head bent, hands clinging to Kisame’s face.

Kisame grinned again, teeth nipping a trail from Itachi’s chin, across his jaw, and up to his ear. He murmured, “You have no fucking idea how unbelievable you are making me feel right now.” He pushed his lips up to kiss Itachi’s forehead. “You have no _fucking_ idea how unbelievable you are, my Itachi.” He stilled Itachi completely then, sinking him back down on his cock and not letting him move. He smirked at the lust lost look he got for it, Itachi’s eyes swirling with confusion and a little bit of a glare. With one powerful movement he got Itachi onto his back and pushed back inside, shuddering at the moan Itachi didn’t quite contain. Itachi’s legs immediately lifted themselves up, knees pressing into Kisame’s sides, and one hand slipped down to his cock, tugging on it. Kisame paused an aggravatingly long moment to pull Itachi’s hair out from under him and splay it on the bedsheets, so he could look at the beautiful mess in such perfect contrast with the white sheets and his pale skin, now flushed and sweaty.

“Have I mentioned how fucking _unbelievably_ gorgeous you are?”

“Kisame,” Itachi mumbled breathily, “don’t stop now.”

Kisame shifted on top of him, always one to please. “Who said anything about stopping?” he grunted. He snapped his hips forward with precision, and Itachi’s whole body stiffened as his throat released something of a whine. He let his hands run across Kisame’s broad shoulders above him, feeling his muscles rippling from the exertion. When Kisame hit that special spot, his back arched and his fingers turned into claws. Little noises escaped from his lips, breathy and caught in his throat. He wanted Kisame to be the one touching him, fingers wrapped around his cock like he had imagined more times than he was willing to admit to himself. But Kisame’s hands were occupied with gripping onto him and bracing himself on the bed. Itachi had to make do with his own hand.

Kisame grunted and groaned, head grinding into a pillow as he felt Itachi’s hand moving hurriedly, knuckles brushing against his stomach.

“Itachi, _Itachi,”_ Kisame moaned.

“I’m gonna,” Itachi breathed, “I can’t…last—a lot longer.” His words were breaking apart, stuck in his throat and tumbling out of his mouth. Kisame’s thrusts rocked his whole body, bed creaking beneath him as he fucked him. His fingers were like _talons_ on Kisame’s skin. “Fuck, Kisame,” he groaned. His breath was ragged and he was about to _burst—_

Kisame pushed his arms under Itachi’s back, finding his lips and thrusting with a maddening precision and force, feeling Itachi twist and squirm in his arms, little gasps and moans slipping through the cracks of their kisses. Itachi stiffened, holding onto Kisame as tightly as possible, and then he came, a surge of pleasure absolutely taking over him or a moment. He couldn’t think, or control his movements and he rode out one of the most intense sensations he thought he had ever experienced. He fluttered down from his high, Kisame holding him as close as possible, still feeling Kisame fuck him, the movement registering in the back of his mind. After a few moments Kisame let out a gasp and squeezed him so tightly he thought he would break. It was an _eternity_ but then Kisame’s strong, dark arms gave, and he collapsed.

Itachi stared hazily up at the ceiling, trying to figure out how to breathe again. Kisame caught his own breath for a moment, unwilling to put any space between him and his lover. Eventually, he rolled off of him so Itachi wasn’t crushed. He reached his hand out to tangle their fingers together. After a couple minutes Itachi shifted beside him, rolling over and pulling a blanket over himself.

“Oh, come on,” Kisame said gruffly, shifting closer to him. “I don’t get to look at that incredible body for a little longer?”

Itachi made a groaning sound, nuzzling against Kisame’s shoulder, pressing against him. He curled his spare hand around Kisame’s arm. “There will be plenty of opportunities in the future,” he assured.

“That better be a promise.” Kisame grinned. “Did I fuck your brains out?” He asked, a smile in his breathy voice. He tightened his fingers around Itachi’s.

Itachi sighed, delivering small little kisses to Kisame’s skin. “Yes, dear.” His tone was nearly placating.

After a few short seconds of settling into the moment, Kisame reluctantly got out of bed and moved to the bathroom to get a clean rag. He returned to a disheveled, glaring Itachi, who didn’t seem to appreciate being left alone after sex for any amount of time. Kisame chuckled, crawling over him and gently pushing his legs apart—something he enjoyed far too much, he considered. He pushed the rag between Itachi’s cheeks and then up the inside of his legs. Folding the rag in half, he cleaned up Itachi’s stomach, too.

He got up to put the rag back in the bathroom sink, but before he had both feet on the ground Itachi caught his wrist, glaring. Kisame grinned, tossing the rag carelessly across the room and crawling back into bed. He got Itachi under the sheets and kissed the top of his hair.

Itachi let out a noise something like a moan, trying to push himself back into Kisame’s hold. He gladly opened his arms, tucking Itachi against his chest. Itachi curled into his side, skin still warm and soft. Itachi’s hand slid across Kisame’s stomach, fingers tracing little patterns across dark skin absently.

Kisame stared up at the ceiling, feeling Itachi’s soft, slow breaths against his skin. “Babe?” he asked.

“Mm?”

“I…really fuckin’ like you.”

Itachi cracked an eye. “ _Just_ like? After all that?”

Kisame stared down at him. “Maybe not.”

Itachi hummed, nuzzling Kisame’s warm skin.

“I love you,” Kisame said, voice rough on the edges.

Itachi paused for moment, eyelashes brushing the skin of Kisame’s chest as he slowly blinked. He let a smile tilt his lips just a little. “Good.”

Kisame was quiet for several seconds. “No?” he asked.

“Hmm?”

“You don’t love me back?” He pressed his lips together. “Mm.” Itachi could feel him deflate, though the grip around him tightened.

Itachi pushed himself up on one arm, hand sliding up Kisame’s chest until it reached his face, tilting it so he could press their lips together. “Of course I love you too, Kisame,” he whispered, noses bumping, lips brushing. “I thought that was implicit.”

Kisame smiled then, not his normal shark like grin, but a true, honest smile. He rolled over, tucking Itachi against him, tangling their legs. “Stay the night,” he ordered, but there was a hint of asking there, like always.

Itachi nodded in agreement, head tucked into Kisame’s neck, feeling the soreness of his muscles pulse a sleepy wave throughout his body. He was tired, and sated, and warm, and loved. And that was a very good mix of feelings to fall asleep to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story Itachi is teaching about in scene one is 'Flowers' by Alice Walker. It was one of the few American Short Stories I truly enjoyed. 
> 
> itachi and kisame just continuously go to dinner in this. it's all they do. alslkfj.
> 
> I debated for a really long time on how much the scholarship should be. eventually i just said fuck it and chose a number. ehhhh. oh well. Its all unrealistic anways. 
> 
> hmmm more spoo000o0oooky stuff is happening. 
> 
>  
> 
> I'd actually really like feedback about the sex scene in particular, because I'm not used to writing smut scenes. I know it was a little too 'perfect' for first time sex, I just realllly did not feel like making it awkward or clunky, which might be more realistic. And it wouldn't really work for what I have planned.
> 
> I love love love love love comments. LOVE. So if you even only have two words, I'd be overjoyed. 
> 
> See you later!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> laughs
> 
> okay if you read the original chapter you need to read this one for chapter 10 (and the rest of the story) to make sense
> 
> i tried to fix this the best that I could a lot of you probably still won't be happy with it at all but...oh well. I rewrote this 5 times. I have five versions of this chapter. that is my limit.
> 
> I just. Idk. I did my best to balance the feedback I got with what I wanted (or thought i wanted? boi). i don't know anything anymore. i am floatin in a time space parallel. 
> 
> Um  
> be prepared to read the absolute fucking cheesiest shit you have ever read your entire life it is the CORNIEST shit. I am 400% not kidding you it will be there is some truly disgusting dialogue exchanged in this. but i mean....hey....this whole thing has been domestic cheesy bullshit
> 
> :^)
> 
> I ONLY WORK IN EXTREMES I GUESS
> 
> Ummm I think Kisame gets kinda ooc idk im sorry
> 
> i truly and entirely hope you enjoy

 Kisame woke the next morning to a band of sunlight bursting through a crack in the shudders to land directly on his closed eyes. He groaned, pissed, and rolled over.

Despite the rude awakening, a smile melted across his face like butter when he remembered who was with him.

 _Itachi_.

His arms outstretched to pull Itachi’s slight, warm body into his.

His groping hands came up empty. 

“Itachi,” he groaned tiredly. No response.                                                                                         

With a very loud sigh of protest, Kisame rolled back over, ran a hand over his face, and pushed himself up. He glared sleepily into his room, mood thoroughly dampened. Eyes scanning the floor, he noticed Itachi’s clothes had disappeared, and his own were folded neatly on a chair on the other side of his room. 

“Must be downstairs,” he muttered to himself. Itachi wasn’t a morning person, if the last times he spent the night was anything to go by, so Kisame was somewhat miffed that his lover was up before he was.

Regardless, he pushed himself out of bed completely, feeling a proper soreness in his muscles. He wondered how Itachi was faring—probably much worse than him. He chuckled, then, imagining a moderately grumpy, sleepy Itachi waiting for him downstairs. He didn’t bother dressing before he trudged downstairs, a yawn escaping his mouth as the remnants of sleep still hid in between his joints and clung to his muscles.

“Babe?” he called, moving through the hallway. Still no answer. “’Tachi? Where are you?” He turned the corner into the kitchen, a hand moving through his hair.

Itachi was standing in the corner by the window, hunkered down over his phone.

“Babe,” Kisame said gruffly, frowning. “I’ve been calling you.”

Itachi snapped his head up. “Sorry,” he murmured, pressing the screen of his phone to his chest. “I was looking at something.”

Kisame sidled up next to him, grasping his face between both hands and nuzzling into his hair. “Morning, baby,” he grunted.

“Good morning,” Itachi replied, voice chipped. “Why are you not wearing any clothes?”

“Why _are_ you?” He chuckled, sliding one hand down Itachi’s waist. He hummed and pressed kisses to Itachi’s temple. “Come back to bed, baby,” he crooned, slipping his fingers under Itachi’s shirt.

“Ah—” Itachi stiffened, pulled away just a hair. “I’m actually waiting for my Uber.”

Kisame pulled back, alarmed. “What?”

Itachi cleared his throat. He wouldn’t meet Kisame’s eye for more than a second.

“Why are you—” Kisame tilted Itachi’s face up, studying his expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Itachi replied.

“Baby, tell me what’s happened.” He ran his fingers through the bangs framing Itachi’s face.

“Nothing has happened, Kisame.”

Kisame narrowed his eyes. “Everything’s alright?”

“Yes.”                                                                                                                                                 

“Then why did I wake up alone just to find you huddled in my living room waiting for an Uber.” He paused, feeling his stomach twitch. The backs of his fingers rested against Itachi’s cheek. “Are you upset about last night?”

“No, Kisame, nothing like that.” Itachi offered a small smile. “I just have a lot I need to get done today. Okay?”

Kisame was still frowning. “Hm.” He tried deciphering Itachi’s eyes, but they were especially closed off today. “You were just going to duck out on me without saying goodbye?”

“I did not want to wake you.”

“Hm.”

Itachi’s phone buzzed, then, and he jumped a little. “Ah—my ride is here.”

“I’m your ride, now,” Kisame joked, grin cracking of its own accord. He grabbed Itachi’s forearm, pulling him close. “Isn’t that right?”

It took him a second, but Itachi eventually gave a reluctant smile. “Right.” He pulled his arm free.

“Hey.” Kisame caught his hand again. “If you gotta go that’s fine. But call me tonight and tell me what’s up?” He rubbed his thumb against the top of Itachi’s knuckles. “You’re making me worried.”

“Please do not worry,” Itachi asked sincerely, retracting his hand again. He bounced up on his toes to give Kisame a brief kiss to the cheek. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Kisame ended up staying standing, stark naked, in the living room for a minute or two after Itachi left.

That was…not how he was planning the morning to go.

He ran a calloused hand over his face, morning officially fucking ruined.

Maybe he had to get back to Sasuke or something—but he could have at least said that. It wasn’t even 7:30 yet; Kisame had wanted to have breakfast together.

Whatever—if Itachi was anything, he was a mystery. He could call him later that day and badger him for not giving a proper goodbye.

A few hours later and Kisame was showered and dressed, working on a long overdue sink of dishes. He didn’t want to be pushy, or needy or clingy, but he _really_ wanted to call Itachi and see if everything was alright. He had this uncomfortable little feeling in the very pit of his stomach, and he wanted to make sure it was unprecedented. The hum of a running dishwasher accompanied his gnawing thoughts, and eventually he gave in, shooting Itachi a text.

_You got home safely, right?_

He tapped his phone against his hand for a moment, and then wandered back upstairs to strip his bedding for the wash.

After over two hours of preoccupying himself without a single word from Itachi, Kisame headed to the gym. He hoped that, by the time he went back to the locker room to retrieve his bag, he would have a text or a missed call or something, but his notifications were blank.

Kisame’s heart and body were still humming from the night before. He had imagined taking Itachi to bed…so many times, imagined how wonderful and perfect and _good_ it would be. And it was infinitely better than he could have ever constructed in his mind.

He was getting sappier, he could feel it. It was fine, though, he didn’t mind as long as Itachi was the cause.

He wanted to spoil Itachi all through the morning. He wanted to run his lips across every inch of Itachi’s soft skin, to imprint the shape of his hands on Itachi’s body.

Itachi had promised him many more mornings after, though, so he supposed he wouldn’t mind waiting. Itachi did have a habit of making him do that.

He shot Itachi another text, just a _Baby_ and a heart eyes emoji.

He ordered pizza that night and watched television until it was late. Before he climbed into bed, he sent Itachi a, _Night, baby. I love you. I hope you call me soon._

He already had all the lights out and was settling into his pillow when he got back a, _Goodnight._

It was like a weight off of his chest, getting confirmation that at least Itachi was _alright._  He couldn’t analyze the strange behavior, but at least Itachi wasn’t ignoring him.

It was a little hard to fall asleep alone.

\--

“Bro, where are you?”

Kisame blinked, eyes refocusing on Mangetsu’s pale face. “Right in front of you?”

“Dumbass,” Mangetsu muttered over a swig of beer, “you know what I mean. Your mind has been out to lunch this whole party. You aren’t even drinking that much. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” Kisame answered aloofly.

Mangetsu narrowed his eyed over his beer bottle. “ _Fine_ , do not tell me. I’ll just get you wasted enough that you’ll crack.”

“I don’t want to get drunk,” Kisame countered.

“You say that now.” He tapped the table. “Get up, I think Ryoko is doing body shots. Maybe that will encourage you to have a good time.”

Kisame shrugged one shoulder dismissively. “Nah thanks.”

Mangetsu looked at him incredulously. “You’re turning down Ryoko? If I recall, you made something of a fool out of yourself trying to sleep with her during college.”

Kisame rolled his eyes, stretching one arm back against the chair behind him. “Yeah, I know.”

“I saw her eyeing you earlier.”

“If I was looking at her, it was for nostalgia’s or curiosity’s sake alone.” He sighed. “I don’t want to do body shots off of anyone. I’m kind of dating Itachi, remember?”

Mangetsu raised an eyebrow. “I am not suggesting that you bed her. I’m suggesting that you have fun.”

Kisame glared up from under his eyelashes. “Itachi would not appreciate me licking a woman’s stomach and eating out of her mouth, but thank you for the suggestion,” he said dryly.

“Then do not tell him.”

Kisame ignored him entirely, studying his nails.

Mangetsu eyed him for a moment, thinking. “Fine. Do as you wish.” He stole Kisame’s drink. “If you’re going to drag my mood down, at least give me an explanation.”

Kisame gave him a disinterested look.

Mangetsu sat back down across from him. “You should be on cloud nine, that Itachi actually wants to kiss that ugly mug of yours. Yet here you sit.” He spun the red cup on the table. “What happened, cousin?”

Kisame shrugged. “Nothing; I guess I’m just not in the mood to get wasted like you always are.”

“ _Something_ happened.”

“ _Nothing happened._ He’s a really…cheeky guy when he wants to be. He’s just being extra aloof right now and I don’t know why.” Kisame gave a little shrug, looking off. “That’s all.”

“When did it start?”

“After our date on Thursday.”

“What did you do differently that would make him avoid you?”

Kisame rolled his eyes. “I never said he was avoiding me, I just haven’t heard from him. It’s not a big deal, don’t make it something it’s not.” Then, muttering a little, “He’s going to call me real soon. He’ll tell me what’s wrong. He’ll have an explanation.”

“You haven’t talked at all?”

“No,” Kisame answered, shaking his head. “We have a little. Just—something’s up, and we aren’t talking about _that_.”

“Up?”

“ _Wrong_ , whatever. Itachi’s acting all…strange all the sudden and he won’t tell me why.” His leg started to bounce on the ground. “But _something_ happened.”

“Retrace your steps, obviously you did something to piss him off if he’s being distant all the sudden.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Nothing,” Mangetsu restated incredulously. “Nothing at all.”

Kisame shrugged again, stealing his beer back from his cousin. “We had sex for the first time.”

Mangetsu raised his eyebrows slowly. “…ouch.”

“You’re such a little bitch sometimes, you know that? That’s not why he’s ignoring me—which isn’t even happening in the first place.”

“Right,” Mangetsu said sarcastically, flicking a beer bottle cap between his fingers. “And that’s all?”

Kisame stared at the ground for a second. “I told him that I love him.”

Mangetsu leaned back. “First of all, I’m gonna kick your ass for not telling me that you fucking fell in love, but that’s for a different time.” He tilted his head. “Dude….”

Kisame shook his head, knowing what Mangetsu was getting at. “That’s not it.” His stomach twanged a little. “He said it too.”

“Right after you had sex? Is this…not clicking for you?”

“That’s _not it_.” Kisame insisted.

Mangetsu paused. “Whatever you say,” he muttered, taking a long swig of beer.

Kisame crossed one ankle over his leg and tapped his fingers against the table top.

“Damn, remind me to never invite you to a party again.”

\--

_Will you at least let me know if you’re alright? Is everything okay? I’m worried that you’ve gotten hurt or something._

_Fuck, please? Itachi? Baby?_

It was Tuesday morning, and Kisame was edging from the territory of worried and confused to _worried_ and confused. Scared, even. What if something really had happened to Itachi? He had said at their date that Sasuke was out hanging with friends, what if something happened to _him_?

But wouldn’t Itachi tell him if something was really that wrong? Of course he would, right? What could be so bad that Itachi wouldn’t tell him?

That evening, he decided to text Suigetsu.

_Hey man, you talk to Sasuke lately?_

A few minutes later, _yeah, I’m with him now. why_

_He hasn’t gotten hurt or anything in the past week, right?_

_what the fuck are you talking about? i’m at his house now, hes the same stuck up bitch we all know and love._

_It’s nothing, thanks._

_Whatever you say, weirdo. Also, dude, help me out. sasuke and I are trying to get itachi drunk and play cards against humanity with us. do you know what kicks his ass? tequila? vodka?_

Kisame blinked. _Itachi is there?_

_uh, fcking duh? why would he not be at his own house?_

If that wasn’t a slow punch to Kisame’s lungs. _And he’s alright? He’s been around?_

_did you get into the good weed without me or something?_

_Sorry. Long day at work._

_bitch. just tell me how to get him drunk!_

_Don’t get anyone drunk. Itachi has work tomorrow, don’t you dare get him a hangover._ Tomorrow was Wednesday, which meant that his deaf student would be coming for history lessons. Kisame remembered, because he remembered lots of little pieces of Itachi’s life.

God damn he missed him.

_c’mon man! i almost got them to make out when they were both drunk one time. can you imagine the blackmail material?!_

_Don’t do it, Suigetstu. Have your fun with Sasuke all you want, but don’t you dare be selfish enough to fuck with Itachi’s responsibilities. He works harder than you ever will your entire life, the least you could do is show some respect._

_what the fuck? haven’t you ever heard of having fun? Itachi needs to lighten up, anywyas!_

Kisame tossed his phone to the other side of the bed, suddenly not in the mood to deal with Suigetsu’s antics.

So…Itachi _was_ ignoring him?

_Why?_

He groaned into a pillow, collapsing into his bedsheets. It just felt too weird, that after a huge milestone in their relationship, after an intimacy that he _knew_ was really important to Itachi—they should have gotten closer. He thought that they would be inseparable.

Not that Itachi would fall off the face of the earth for five days.

Something must have happened, _something_ happened. Maybe Itachi really was hurt? Injured? Sick?

The thought alone made his stomach drop. He scrambled to the other side of the bed, snatching his phone. He thumbed the home button until Siri came up. “Call, ‘Baby.’”

The dull ringing sounded hollow in his ear.

Not at all surprising to Kisame, the first call went unanswered. He didn’t hesitate to dial again, but the results weren’t any different.

“Fuck!” He cursed, grip tightening. He opened the texting app.

 _Please just_  
fuck, Itachi, please just let me know if you’re alright  
I don’t know if you’re okay and it’s driving me crazy  
I just need to know that you aren’t hurt  
please

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, yanking on the dark strands over his occipital bone.

 _Please_. _Baby, Itachi, love._

His phone stayed still in his hand for a few seconds.

“Fine,” he muttered to himself, plugging his phone in to the charger and setting it on the nightstand. “Fine. Don’t talk to me. Ignore me. _Fine_.”

But it _wasn’t_ fine, because he didn’t know what the fuck was going on. He just wanted to be able to _understand_. Understand why Itachi would give him his heart and his soul and his body and then just…act so cold and standoffish?

Was Itachi mad at him? Did he do something wrong?

Was he too rough during sex? Did he get carried away? Itachi didn’t say anything, Kisame didn’t know…he wouldn’t have, he would _never_ hurt him….

Did Itachi think that now that Kisame had gotten sex he didn’t want him anymore? Could Itachi _possibly_ think that Kisame would do that to him? No—that was—Itachi _knew_ how much Kisame cared about him, that he never was with him for the sex.

 _Right_?

Maybe he didn’t, though. After all, Kisame had said the magic three-word-phrase only once.

He should have confessed his love sooner, maybe then Itachi would have been more reassured, maybe then he wouldn’t be avoiding him.

Or was that _why_ he was acting so distant? Maybe Itachi felt pressured into saying ‘I love you, too,’ because Kisame said it first, but he didn’t really mean it. Maybe they went too fast, and Itachi really didn’t actually feel that way yet and didn’t know what to do, so he said it anyways, and felt too uncomfortable to face Kisame afterwards.

He could have regretted having sex. Maybe it was too soon. What if Itachi just felt like he owed him after so long? Fuck, he should have been more cautious, shouldn’t have done anything until he _knew_ that Itachi was ready.

The more he thought about it the more it knotted his stomach—the thought of Itachi sleeping with him out of obligation or—or whatever fucked up string of thought he could produce.

This _was_ Itachi, and the options were near endless.

 _“I owed you something,”_ Itachi would say.

Maybe he would reason, “ _I know how much you wanted to, you at least deserved it.”_

Or, even worse, “ _If I didn’t have sex with you, I would have just been wasting your time all along.”_

Or maybe—maybe he was just really fucking overthinking this.

He wouldn’t _have_ to overthink anything thought if Itachi would just _talk to him_.

Kisame groaned out loud, gritting his teeth—

His phone buzzed on the table.

Kisame damn near _catapulted_ himself over the bed to the night stand. He tried to grab it off the surface and knocked the whole thing off and onto the floor. “Fuck!” he cursed under his breath, dropping to his knees and scrambling for it. He unlocked it as quickly as his nervous fingers would allow.

_I’m not hurt._

Kisame knocked his head against the wall, rolling over into a sitting position and sighing.

 _Thank gods_  
Tell me what’s wrong, love. Tell me what’s wrong, I know you’re not okay.   
Please  
Itachi 

He waited seven minutes for a response.

 _I cannot_.

_Yes you can, Itachi. You can. I won’t be angry, I promise.  
Itachi._

_It is nothing to worry about._

_Then talk to me, sweetheart._

He didn’t get any messages after that.

\--

Kisame drove to Itachi’s house during his lunch break. He was skipping the mid-day meal entirely—what was the point of eating when his stomach was turning itself into a pretzel?

God, he was nervous, just driving to his boyfriend’s house.

Never in a million years did he think he would ever feel dread at the prospect of seeing Itachi.

Fuck.

He glanced to the plastic bag sitting on the passenger seat. He drove all the way to the next city over to get Indian takeout. Itachi had mentioned, a little offhandedly, that he had only eaten Indian food once or twice, and thoroughly enjoyed it.

The crunch of gravel under his tired and whir of the air conditioner weren’t loud enough to drown out his thoughts of impending doom. The crank of his emergency break echoed loudly in the quiet truck. The quiet clicking of the engine rattled around inside of his head.

The slam of his door shutting made his heart thump irregularly.

He jogged up the staircase, lunch in hand. 

There was no reason to be scared; he just needed to see Itachi, to talk to him and straighten things out.

Itachi would have an explanation—Kisame knew he would, because this wasn’t at all Itachi’s normal behavior. Itachi would never do this to him without a good reason. Itachi loved him.

The first knocks to Itachi’s door went unanswered.

He tried again.

He even pressed his door to the wooden surface, trying as hard as he could to hear _something_ from inside the apartment.

“Itachi?” He eventually called, voice cracking a little. “Itachi, are you home? Hey, I brought you lunch.” He paused. “Uh—will you open up? I want to make sure that you’re eating.” He knocked his head against the door a few times. “Baby, you’ve got me worried sick.”

Two doors down there was a gentle click, and a young lady poked her head out to look at Kisame. He gave her an awkward thumbs up and turned back to knock on Itachi’s door again.

How strange and pathetic he must look, he thought.

He waited for a minute or so longer, fingers pressed against the door. No signs of life presented themselves to him. He dropped his hand from the door.

“If you’re in there, I’m leaving the food in front of the door. If you’re not,” he paused, and then muttered, “then I should stop talking out loud.”

He turned back to the stairs and to his car.

Okay, so Itachi wasn’t home right now. But that didn’t make _sense_ , because Itachi tutored usually right about now. Maybe the session got cancelled? Maybe he stepped out to get groceries or something.

He pulled out his phone and dialed his cousin’s number. “Hey, Mangetsu. Can I come over tonight? I’m in the mood to drink.”

\--

There was a snake coiled up on the welcome mat of his front door.

A snake made of chicken tikka masala and vegetable korma.

Itachi stared at it, halfway recoiled, frozen because he was too scared to touch it.

Why would he bring him _food_? This was a total curve ball—the flowers, the text messages, the pictures, those all added up. But _Indian food_? He was breaking his pattern, and now Itachi had no idea what to expect next.

He swallowed, bouncing the key ring on his finger.

“Is everything alright?”

Itachi fucking _jumped_ , snapping his head around to the source of the voice.

The woman looked confused, hand halfway raised. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s quite fine,” Itachi murmured, recovering.

She smiled. “I think the food should still be good,” she said, a conversational lull to her voice, “he only dropped it off a few minutes ago.”

Itachi stiffened. “You saw him?” he asked quietly.

She snorted out a laugh. “Kind of hard to miss him. Not everyday you see someone with tattoos like that.” She tapped her finger to her chin. “The hair, too. Blue. Strange.”

 _Kisame_.

Itachi’s head jerked back in surprise. “Oh.” He swallowed. _Kisame_. _Kisame_ brought him the food, of course….

She smiled. “I think he was looking for you.”

Itachi looked back down at the food on the floor. He gently squatted down to pick it up. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course,” she responded, passing by him to head down the stairs. “Have a nice day!”

“You as well,” Itachi murmured, jiggling the key in the lock.

He collapsed shakily into a chair once he got inside his apartment.

Kisame…

Fuck. He was so preoccupied, he didn’t even consider that Kisame was the one that brought him lunch when really, it was so, so obvious.

Kisame was such a sweetheart.

Itachi’s face screwed up, anxiety contorting the curve of his lips and corners of his eyes. He pulled his phone out, hovered his finger over the phone icon.

He could just call him and thank him for the food. He didn’t have to say anything. He didn’t have to do anything.

He just missed his voice….

He chickened out of actually calling him, instead opening the texting app. He typed out a bunch of messages he wanted to send— _I’m sorry, I love you so much, please forgive me, I miss you, I love you, I love you, I love you._

He settled on ‘Thank you for the food.’

He was getting ready for his next student when his phone buzzed on the table.

_Were you home_

_Hm?_

_Were you home. When I dropped it off._

Itachi typed slowly. _No. I was out running errands._

_Okay.  
Can I come over sometime?_

Itachi closed his eyes. _I’m busy._

_Will you please tell me what’s going on? Are you angry with me? Have I done something to hurt you?_

Itachi’s heart whined. _No, Kisame, I swear. It’s nothing like that. I’m not upset with you._

_Then why can’t I see you?_

Itachi hesitated. _Just not right now._

_I miss you._

After a moment of deliberation, Itachi flicked his phone locked again and hit the do not disturb button.

He _knew_ he was being shitty, but—

But what was he supposed to do? Face Kisame in the flesh? And say _what,_ do _what_? Kisame would just make him melt, like he always did, and Itachi wouldn’t be any closer to—fixing anything. 

He knew that he…was hurting Kisame, and that made him nauseated in the very pit of his stomach. Made his bones sore. Made his head feel heavy.

Kisame would probably get sick of it soon. Probably end things soon.

And that—that made him _panic,_ but part of him almost…wanted it to happen.

It was, of course, the simplest solution. Besides, Kisame could do better than him. Anyone was better than him, for fucks sake. Kisame didn’t deserve to deal with all of Itachi’s baggage. He knew that Kisame loved him, didn’t doubt that for a second.

But Itachi wasn’t special, wasn’t irreplaceable.

Theoretically, if they were to break up….

It would hurt Kisame for a few weeks, but then—he would find someone else. Someone much, much better than Itachi could ever be. Had ever been. He would fall in love again, and Itachi would become a memory as small and insignificant as he felt. Kisame would move on, recover, and find someone even better to spend his life with.

The thought of it made Itachi’s slow-beating heart twitch. Everything they shared, everything they could share…Itachi could tear it all up with one phone call. All of it would stop, everything that made Itachi feel so happy he could barely function—he could end it.

He had never felt so morbidly powerful over his own life. He had never had anything that made him so happy, never had so much leverage to destroy himself before.

And, continuing this strictly theoretical train of thought of if they did break up—

He would never get it again. This _love_ , this endless spring of happiness that bubbled out of him from every more, from every inflection of his voice. He could never risk someone else getting sucked into the fucked up vortex of his life. If Kisame wasn’t safe, why would his next boyfriend be?

Besides, the thought of falling in love again…just exhausted him to the absolute core.

Kisame would make a fast recovery. Part of him wanted to wish that maybe someday Kisame would forgive him, but that was too much to ask. It was a strange, morbid mixture of pain and pleasure to imagine Kisame touching someone else, loving someone else.

It was selfish to want to keep him. Terribly, terribly selfish, especially when Kisame was at risk of getting hurt. When he was in _danger_ maybe. And for what? For Itachi?

How could Itachi ever _possibly_ ask that of him? If Kisame ever got hurt because of him….

He just wanted him to be _happy_. To be _safe_. And Itachi was starting to think that…he couldn’t do either of those things anymore.

Besides, a broken heart certainly was better than a broken skull.

His hand trembled against the table top, and he was getting jittery. The thought of breaking up was….

He stood up and moved to the kitchen to wash the dishes laying at the bottom of the sink.

He could do it. He could end everything, could walk away from all of it. He was already half way there.

His eyebrows pinched together as he filled a mug with water.

He could break up with him, he could say goodbye…it would keep Kisame safe, it would ensure that Kisame would be happy….

It’s not like he deserved Kisame’s love anyways.

It would be so _easy_. Easy as a call, easy as a text message.

Even easier—he could just keep ignoring him. Kisame would let it go eventually.

He could do it. He really could.

There was a knock on the door.

Itachi—damn his jitteryness today—fumbled the porcelain coffee mug he was cleaning. It smacked against the sink, cracking into wicked shards and chalky chunks.

A pointed chip nicked Itachi’s thumb. The sharp red color of his blood diluted as it streaked into the water droplets on the handle. Itachi dumped the broken cup into the trashcan, using a paper towel to carefully clean the pieces out of the sink.

It took an embarrassingly long time for him to remember that he was expecting a student.

He ripped a paper towel off the roll and quickly wrapped his finger, slamming the water off at the sink. He darted to the door, pretending he wasn’t a haphazard mess.

He answered the door with a fake smile.

He spent the rest of the day with his thoughts lodged in his throat and his heart.

\--

Kisame held the bottle away from him, grimacing and wrinkling his nose. “ _Shit_ ,” he muttered. “That burns.”

“190-proof,” Mangetsu replied, grinning. “It’s Polish.”

“Crazy motherfuckers,” Kisame muttered. He grabbed the pack of ginger ale, popping open a couple of bottles. “I’m crashing here, you know,”

“With that vodka? Damn straight you are.”

Kisame got the Moscow Mules ready, sliding his cousin a copper mug.

“Alright, cousin,” Mangetsu drawled, settling into a couch. “Tell me your woes.”

“You aren’t my therapist,” Kisame rumbled. “I just want to get drunk.”

Mangetsu hummed, taking a sip. “Well, this’ll do that just fine.” He looked at Kisame for a moment, contemplating. “This isn’t like you. You don’t like getting drunk when you’re sad. You’re a happy drunk.”

“Amazing.”

“You shit-head,” Mangetsu snickered. “This still about Itachi?”

Kisame glared over the brim of his mug.

“Ah. Not putting out anymore?” He ducked the pillow hurled towards him. “You come to my house, drink my alcohol, and physically assault me? I’m wounded so.”

“Why the hell are you in such a good mood,” Kisame grumbled, eyebrows set in.

“Maybe I just want to share a good time with my favorite cousin. Why aren’t _you_ in a good mood?”

Kisame rested his head against the back of the couch. “Itachi.”

“I mean, duh.”

Kisame ran a hand over his face, taking another fiery swig before answering, “He’s still avoiding me, and I don’t know why.”

“Dick-2-bomb,” Mangetsu chortled.

Kisame raised an eyebrow. “Are you already tipsy?”

Mangetsu waved a hand. “I started drinking before you got here. How else was I going to listen to you whine about your girl problems?”

“Itachi is not a girl.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I.”

“Oh, stop being a shit, Kisame. Itachi isn’t talking to you? Go _fix_ things.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to even be fixing,” Kisame snapped, burying his nose in his drink again. “He won’t even tell me where to start.”

“Then figure it out yourself.” Mangetsu shrugged, chewing on an ice cube.

Kisame let out a sharp breath. “He’s mad at me?” He guessed.

“Have you done anything?”

“No,” Kisame muttered. “At least, probably not.”

“Probably?”

“I can’t _think_ of anything.” He tugs at his hair. “We had sex, and it was—fucking amazing, and I want him ten times more now and—and he’s avoiding me.” He groaned out loud.

“Maybe he’s scared,” Mangetsu suggested. “You know, the whole break your own heart before someone else has the chance to.”

Kisame furrowed his brow. “You think? What would he be scared of?”

Mangetsu guffawed. “Man, I got no idea anything about Itachi, really. Sui has only said that he gets really fucky sometimes. Whatever that means.” He takes another slurp, shudders when the vodka hits him too hard. “Maybe what he needs is the opposite of distance.”

Kisame stared at the ceiling. “So what do I do.”

“I thought I’m not your therapist?”

“Ass.” Kisame looked over. “C’mon, Mang, help me. Nothing in my life has ever mattered as much as this.”

Mangetsu whistled. “You’ve got it bad, cousin.”

“I love him,” Kisame croaked, mouth buzzing from the alcohol. He was already feeling it, especially on an empty stomach. “I love him.”

They sat in silence for a while. Kisame had finished his first drink and prepared a second before he spoke again.

“What if he’s not really into me anymore.”

“Then it wasn’t meant to be.”

Kisame stared at the ice cubes bobbing in his cup of vodka. “I really thought it was this time.”

Mangetsu looked at him for a few seconds. Slowly, he downed the rest of his drink and got up for the kitchen. “You mean that? Like, actually?”

“Yeah,” Kisame grunted. “I do.”

Mangetsu quietly poured himself a new drink, squeezing a lime hard to get as much juice out as possible. “If he means that much to you, why are you sitting on my couch?”

“What?” Kisame asked.

“If you love him so much then go fucking _fight_ for him. Fix your damn relationship if you think he’s the one for you.”

Kisame blinked. “Yeah, okay—yeah. Yeah, I’ll go—” He jumped up to his feet, “—nowhere,” he swayed, collapsing back on the couch. “Mangetsu, I am drunk.”

Mangetsu snickered, taking another long drink and feeling the burn down his throat. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Kisame sighed, bringing the mug back up to his lips. “Tomorrow, I’m gonna—I’m gonna fix this.” He licked his lips around a swallow. “I’m gonna get my man back.”

“You cheesy-ass bitch,” Mangetsu cackled, spilling his drink on his shirt. “That’s why Itachi broke up with you. Corny mother fucker.”

“Itachi did not break up with me,” Kisame corrected, glaring. “Itachi _fucked_ me.” He smacked the top of his thigh, grinning. “Rode me like a bike.”

Mangetsu’s laughter rang through the kitchen. “You’re not gonna ‘get your man back’ with that language.”

Kisame chuckled, closing his eyes and settling into the couch cushions. “Yes I will. ‘M gonna get my Itachi back.”

\--

“I need to borrow your cellphone.”

“What?” Suigetsu’s voice came appalled through the phone speaker.

After nursing his hangover for a day (and calling Mangetsu on the phone, cursing him to high heavens, and swearing to destroy every last bottle of vodka he owned), Kisame decided that it was the day to end all of the bullshit.

“I need your cellphone, shit-bucket,” Kisame drawled back, tapping his fingers against the rough of his jeans.

“Fuck you! Why would I do that?”

“You owe me.”

“Like hell I do,” Suigetsu snapped.

Kisame grunted. “Third year high school, you got caught smoking pot behind the gym. Remember who pretended to be your daddy and bailed you out?”

“There is _no_ way you are bringing stuff up from fucking high school.”

“Deal with it.” Kisame crosses his arm over his chest, one foot bumping against Suigetsu’s door impatiently. “I’m outside.”

“You’re—?!” Mangetsu cursed and sputtered, kicking something across the room. “Stupid mother fucker,” he grumbled.

The line went dead, and Kisame pocketed his phone as he waited for Suigetsu to get the door.

There were a few fumbling clicks of the locks, and then Suigetsu’ sleep plastered face appeared, glowering at him. “I hate you.”

“Interesting.” Kisame held one hand out. “Phone.”

“You know, you’re much nicer when you’re with Itachi.”

“Itachi gets special treatment.” Duh. “ _Phone_.”

Suigetsu groaned, handing it over. “What the fuck do you even need it for, anyway?”

“None of your damn business,” Kisame grunted. “I’ll give it back to you when I’m done.”

“When—when you’re done?” Suigetsu squawked. “I thought you just needed it for a second. You can’t just take my phone!”

“Can and will,” Kisame replied nonchalantly, turning back towards his motorcycle.

“I have important people to call!” Suigetsu shouted after him.

“No you don’t.” Kisame stuck the helmet on his head.

“I have snapchat streaks to keep up!”

Kisame paused, snorted, and kicked his bike to life.

The motor drowned out all the curses Suigetsu continued to throw at him.

Kisame’s heart was thrumming the entire ride home. He liked the rush of the wind over his skin as he pushed his bike faster, the vibration of the road under his wheels. It calmed his head and heart alike.

He didn’t waste time once he got back to his house. He didn’t procrastinate by making a cup of tea (Itachi had tricked him into forming the habit) or making a snack (he had willingly adopted the habit to make sure Itachi wasn’t hungry, even if he had skipped breakfast or lunch that day).

He took out Suigetsu’s phone (of which he already knows the password to) and typed in Itachi’s number.

The contact came up as ‘Pretty Boy’ with a dango emoji.

Kisame couldn’t disagree.

The phone rang only three times.

“Suigetsu?” Itachi’s voice was surprised. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Gotcha,” Kisame said, little triumphantly.

He could _hear_ Itachi freeze on the other end of the line.

“I knew you would answer if it was Suigetsu instead of me.” He paused. “That fuckin’ hurts, ya know?”

“Kisame—”

“I have to trick my own boyfriend into answering the phone.” He chuckled dryly. “What a change. You used to love talking to me on the phone.”

“Kisame,” Itachi sounded uncomfortable, and Kisame’s heart ached.

“Is this what it’s come to, Itachi, really?”

Itachi quietly fumbles for words on the other end of the line.

“We need to talk, baby.” He swallowed, leaning around a counter. “You gotta talk to me.”

Itachi let out a breath. “I don’t want to do this right now. Kisame, I can’t do this right now.”

“Okay, well, when then?” Kisame looked up at the ceiling. “It’s been, what, two weeks? Itachi, I just….”

“I’ll—I will, soon, okay? I just can’t right now.”

“But, Itachi—”

“No, Kisame, I can’t—”

“You just gotta tell me what I did _wrong_ , baby, you just gotta let me know what I did _wrong_ because it’s driving me crazy!” He pressed a hand to his forehead. “I thought I was giving you space, I thought I was being considerate, I thought I was being gentle, baby. You _said_ that you were sure you wanted to have sex with me, baby, I would never try to pressure—”

“Stop!” Itachi shouted suddenly. “Stop, Kisame, please stop.” His voice sounded pain, near pleading. “It’s none of those thing, okay? You haven’t done anything. Please…please don’t think like that.”

“Then what am I supposed to think? You ghosted me for two weeks so tell me _what_ I am supposed to think.”

“I can’t right now.”

“Why?!”

“I just _can’t,_ Kisame.” Itachi made a frustrated noise. “I—I have to go.”

“No,” Kisame bites, “ _no_ , not until you tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t!”

“ _Why_?!”

“Because I don’t know what I’m going to do yet!” Itachi shouted, suddenly, louder than Kisame thought he had ever heard Itachi speak before.

“About _what_?” Kisame snapped back.

“Breaking up with you!”

Silence.

“What?” Kisame whispered.

Itachi didn’t say anything for a second.

“You’re breaking up with me?” Kisame asked.

“No—maybe, I don’t _know_ , yet, Kisame,” Itachi’s voice was shaking. “Could you just—”

“Could I just _what_ ,” Kisame demanded, fingers tightening around the phone. “You haven’t told me what the fuck I’m _supposed_ to do for weeks, and now you’re going to break up with me?”

“I didn’t _say_ that!” Itachi yelled back. “Just—I don’t want to talk about this!”

“We’re talking about this,” Kisame grit. “You’re going to tell me what the fuck happened, you’re going to tell me why you’re treating me this way.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Itachi managed.

Kisame sputtered. “You’re going to break up with me and not tell me _why_?”

“I never said I was breaking up with you!” Itachi’s voice was loud again.

“I—” Kisame snapped his jaw shut. He closed his eyes, took two deep breaths to calm down. “This isn’t working.”

A pause. “What?” Whispered.

“This isn’t working, Itachi. I’m hanging up.”

“Wait, wha—”

“Bye.”

“Kisa—!”

Kisame flicked the phone off, pushed his hands into his hair, and counted to ten. A few times.

When he felt calm, he got up off the couch and headed to the garage.

\--

Itachi looked like shit.

“You look like shit,” Kisame muttered gruffly.

Itachi stared mutely. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to fix everything,” he replied. “Can I come in?”

“What?” Itachi asked.

“What about that was confusing?”

“I don’t—I thought you said.” Itachi eyes slanted off to the side. “You said it wasn’t working.”

“Yeah,” Kisame said, brows furrowing. “Talking on the phone wasn’t working. What—what did you think I meant?” After a pause, all the anger that was still steaming in his veins fizzled out (it was that broken look on Itachi’s face, that look Kisame promised himself he would eradicate, not cause) and he found his hands reaching for Itachi without thinking. “Oh, baby.” He grabbed Itachi by the arms and pulled him into his chest, meeting him halfway.  “Oh, baby. What’s wrong, what’s happened.” He kissed the top of his hair, nuzzled his nose into it.

Itachi was stiff as a board, but he didn’t let that deter him from stroking his hand down Itachi’s arm.

“Do you really want this to end?” Kisame asked quietly. “I’m not going to force anything on you, baby, you know that. But—is that really what you want?”

Itachi didn’t answer. He just looked—overwhelmed.

“Okay, okay. What do you want for _you_?”

“What?” Itachi asked in whisper.

“What do you want for _you_. Forget Sasuke, or work, or all the other stuff you prioritize over yourself. Think selfishly for a second.” He lifted his hand to stroke across Itachi’s jaw. “What do _you_ want, baby?”

Itachi very _slowly_ met his eyes. “I think…that you are the only thing I have ever wanted for myself.”

Kisame grinned. It was _tired_ , but it was there. “Yeah, babe? Yeah.” He dropped his hands from Itachi’s face to his arms. “C’mere, then.”

Itachi let himself be pulled into his broad chest, let the thick arms squeeze him tightly. “Kisame….” Yet, his voice still held hesitation.

“What?” Kisame muttered into his hair. He started pressing kisses all over the top of Itachi’s head. “Mm, baby, I missed you. Mm,” he hummed, curving his hand around Itachi’s waist, “Baby—”

“Stop,” Itachi said suddenly, shoving back against Kisame’s chest, “ _stop_ , don’t touch me—”

Kisame released him the moment the word left his lips, hands hovering in the air, looking equally confused as his face. “What? Itachi, I—”

“Just—” Itachi interrupted, holding one hand out. He clamped his eyes shut again, locking his fingers into his hair. “Just let me think for a second.”

“Think?” Kisame asked quietly. “What is there to think about?”

“A lot—there’s a _lot_ to think about,” Itachi protested immediately.

“Like what?” Kisame reached a hand out again, stopped short before he made contact with Itachi’s skin. “Talk to me. _Please_ , baby, please talk to me.” He stared at him. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Itachi responded immediately.

“Okay, okay then—tell me what’s wrong. I can help.”

Itachi stared at him for a while. “Why do you care?”

A long pause. Then, dismayed, “What?”

“Why do you even care anymore, Kisame.”

“Why do I _care_? About my boyfriend? Of course I care what’s wrong with you.”

“But that’s my point!” Itachi’s near yelling again. “There’s so much _wrong_ with me.” He looks around rapidly and braces himself on the door jam. “ _How_ are you still dealing with this? How are you still putting up with me when I do this again and again? Why do you…why do you care anymore.” His eyes drop down to the ground. “You have no reason to waste your energy on me anymore.” He’s quiet for a second. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Kisame’s whole face screwed up, confused. Maybe a little angry. He presses his hands to Itachi’s cheeks. “I love you, Itachi.” He cracks a cautious grin. “Didn’t I mention that already?”

“You have no reason to,” Itachi replied in an uncomfortably steady voice.

“I—yes, I do.”

“No, you _don’t_.”

Kisame raised an eyebrow. “Actually—”

“Like _what_ ,” Itachi demanded, cutting him off. “What do you love about me so much.”

“I…I don’t know,” Kisame mumbled, looking confused, still.

Itachi stared. “You don’t know,” he whispered eventually.

“No, babe, not like that, I don’t mean it like that.”

“Then tell me.” Itachi swallowed. His hand tapped nervously against his thigh. “If you love me so much you should at least be able to tell me _why_.”

“I don’t know, Itachi, I don’t know!” Kisame tugged at his hair. He reached for Itachi, who rejected him. “I don’t have words, baby. I can’t describe it in words, it’s too hard, it’s just a feeling. Could you?”

“Yes,” Itachi whispered. “Yes, I can. I love you because you support me, because you care for me with every _part_ of you. You put me first and you think of me even when you don’t need to. You know what I need when _I_ don’t know.”

Itachi’s eyes were as tight as his jaw. “I love you for the way you voice gets higher when you talk about Samoa, how you slip into your accent when you talk about the things you did with your cousins as a kid, for the stupid grin on your face when you watch videos of sharks. I love how childishly happy you get when you show me the footage from your dives.

“I love the set of your jaw when you’re trying to act extra strong for me. I love the way your nose wrinkles when you can’t understand what language I’m speaking. I love the way you look up words in Japanese, love the way you mispronounce them when you try to use them for me.”

Itachi slumped against the doorway, giving up. “I haven’t been happy since my parents died. Or—I hadn’t, but then _you_ showed up, and everything is just so…sincerely happy.”

“I don’t really understand,” Kisame began, “how all of this is adding up to a bad thing for you.”

“Because I can never repay you.”

“ _Repay_ me?” Kisame asked, absolute confusion inflecting his voice.

“I can never do for you what you have done for me.” He looked overwhelmingly sad. “I’m _broken_ , Kisame.”

Kisame shook his head adamantly. “No, Itachi, no you’re not. Just because you have your flaws, doesn’t mean you’re broken, not by any means. Don’t say that about yourself.”

“But—Kisame—” Itachi squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t you get it? It’s always going to be like this. It’s always going to _be like this_. I’m not going to change, you can’t _fix_ me.”

“Ita—”

“You can’t fix me!” Itachi repeated, louder. He stared at Kisame for a second, looking lost. “You put me first _all_ the time, you’re so sweet on me, you _prioritize_ me, but—” his breath caught, “I’m never going to love you most, because I love _Sasuke_ most, because it’s all I know and it’s all I’ll ever know. And this—this thing that I always do, what I just did these past weeks—is always going to be a part of me, Kisame, I’m not going to be able to get rid of this. I’m going to keep fucking up, I’m going to keep _hating_ myself—” he broke off, trying to get his breathing under control. When his voice was more even, he asked, very quietly, “How can you settle for that, Kisame? How could you settle for me when you know you could do better?”

Kisame didn’t say anything.

“I’m not worth it, Kisame. I’m not worth all this.”

“What if I say you are?”

Itachi looked so very tired. “Go home, Kisame. Just…go home.”

Kisame caught the door before he could close it. He remained quiet for several seconds, patient. 

Itachi frowned when he tugged on the door to no avail. “Kisame—”

Kisame kept his gaze steady. “Are you done? Did you let it all out?” He asked.

Itachi grimaced. “Don’t belittle me.”

“I’m not.” Kisame’s entire demeanor stayed calm. “Did you get it all out?”

Itachi stared blankly. “…yes.” His voice was shaky.

“Good. Can I come in, then?”

Below, on the busy streets, traffic whirred and groaned like it always did. Someone blared their horn; bald tired screeched against the street. Those cars passed, and it went back to normal.

Itachi took a long pause, and then nodded dumbly, deflating.

Kisame shoved into the house, pushed Itachi back hard enough to draw from him a surprised little yip, and slammed the door shut behind him. He grabbed Itachi’s face, pulled it up close to his, and stared into his eyes, shocked wide.

“I love you for how you trust me. I love your motivation, your work ethic, your selflessness. I love the playful streak you get when you’re in a good mood.” He smiled, tracing his finger along the curve of Itachi’s eyebrow. “I love it when you flirt with me and tease me. I love it when you act like you’re hot stuff—not just because it makes my dick happy, but because I so badly want you to see how gorgeous you are.

“You can dissect a book as if you wrote it. You can recite paragraphs of some Shakespeare soliloquy—do you like how I remember the difference between that and a monologue? You taught me that, baby—and Matsuo Bashou haikus in your sleep, and you look so damn happy when you do it, like you actually understand all that shit.”

“Oh, for fucks sake, Itachi, you’re so smart. You’re so damn—” He broke off and laughed, kissing Itachi’s forehead. “I love listening to you talk. You’re insightful in ways I never even imagined before. I could listen to you talk all day, babe. All day.” He cradled Itachi’s face with one hand and reached down for his hand with the other.

“I love the way the cracks in your hands scratch my skin when you touch me, all because you’re too stubborn to use lotion.” Kisame kissed the backs of Itachi’s knuckles and laughed. “You’re so fuckin’ _stubborn_ babe, you realize that?” He kissed all the way around Itachi’s wrist and up his forearm. “You know so much more than me, and I fucking love it when I say something stupid and you get that look in your eye that you know I’m wrong but you aren’t going to correct me. I love it when you play the piano into my skin. I love it when you trace my tattoos, I fucking _love_ that.”

Itachi let himself be swallowed up by Kisame’s arms, not resisting when Kisame squeezed him. “You’re optimistic. You see the good in everyone, you give second chances to _everyone_. You have such a good heart.” He buries his face into Itachi’s hair. “You buy my shit cousin food every time he comes over, you give Karin a place to crash whenever she gets kicked out. You’ve struggled so much to take care of yourself and your brother,” he grips Itachi tightly, “but that doesn’t ever stop you from taking care of other people. And it’s not always a good thing, you know, you know that, but _dammit_ Itachi it’s beautiful, the way you take care of people.”

He nosed against Itachi’s temple. “You listen to me tell you how to wax a damn surfboard, Itachi, you sit and watch me sketch the lines of a building longer than I have the patience to even draw them. You started watching cooking tutorials on youtube just for _me_ , you idly draw the patterns of my tattoos on your lesson plans for your students.

“So tell me _why_ , Itachi, tell me _how_ you could mean anything but the world to me, huh?”

Itachi didn’t have any words, so he didn’t say anything.

Kisame barreled onward. “You know how I know that I love you? Sometimes, before I kiss you, my stomach still flutters. I’ve had you for what—almost nine months?—and I still get _butterflies_ over you, baby.” He held Itachi’s face with both of his calloused hands, kept his eyes connected with Itachi’s overwhelmed ones. “You know why, babe, you know _why_?”

Itachi swallowed. “Because you love me?”                   

“In the simplest words,” Kisame replied with a chuckle. He stroked his thumbs across Itachi’s cheekbones. “I should have told you this sooner. I’ve known since—way before I told you the other night in my bed. I just wanted it to be right, ya know? I wanted to take you out and treat you like a king. I wanted to make love to you baby, with my body and my words.”

“You’re so corny,” Itachi whispered, and his eyes were still drowning, but the corners of his lips were twitching. Kisame took it as a victory. “You’re so corny when you say that type of thing.”

“Yeah?” Kisame cracked a tired grin.

“Yeah,” Itachi breathed back, taking a step closer. Kisame put an arm around his back, and he shuddered. “You weren’t nearly this cheesy when we started dating.”

“A lot has happened since then,” Kisame murmured, nudging Itachi’s nose with his own. “You bring out the best in me.”

“Are you sure it’s the best?”

Kisame puffed. He pressed the side of his face to Itachi’s hair, letting his eyes slip closed.

“I don’t deserve you,” Itachi whispered, fingers flexing, unsure where to go or what to do.

“Yes you do,” Kisame replied immediately. “Fuck, babe, I missed you.”

“…I missed you, too,” Itachi eventually gave in, shoving his arms around Kisame’s trunk and hugging him like he would fall apart if he didn’t. “I really missed you.”

Kisame let out a breath into Itachi’s hair. “Yeah, well.” _It’s your_ fault. He didn’t say it, though, because it wasn’t anything Itachi needed to hear.

They stayed that way for a few minutes. Kisame let Itachi quietly shove himself tightly into the cradle of his neck and arms. He felt the movement of Itachi’s facial expressions twisting against his skin.

“Itachi?”

“Mm.”

“I need you to swear that I haven’t hurt you.”

Itachi tilted his head against his shoulder. “What?”

“When we had sex. I just—swear to me that I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“ _Kisame_ ,” Itachi stressed, pulling back to look at him. He pressed both of his palms to Kisame’s cheeks, “no, Kisame, I swear. You were…” he trailed off, slipping one hand down his jawline (it still made Itachi weak) and across his thick neck. “You were very good.”

“Very good?”

Itachi nodded, melting his body against Kisame’s. “Very good. It was all…very good.”

“Can I say something inappropriate?”

Itachi leaned his weight forward into Kisame’s hold again. “Go ahead.”

“I can’t stop thinking about taking you back to my bed.” He took a deep breath through his nose; Itachi’s hair still smelled like green tea and almonds. “Now more than ever, so I can show just how _very good_ I can be to you.”

Itachi snorted. “At least you managed to shelve the crass language,” he quipped lightly, tilting his head back to look him in the eyes. He maintained the contact for a few seconds, biting one corner of his lower lip. “I’m so sorry, Kisame. I really…I really fucked up this time, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Kisame grunted bluntly, tapping Itachi’s waist with his thumb, “you kinda did.”

Itachi looked away, face falling.

“You know what the good news is?” Kisame grinned, more lively this time, and squeezed his waist. “It’s nothing we can’t get over, babe.” He hesitated. “But—you need to promise me this won’t happen again.”

Itachi reacted very cautiously. “I just…I just tried to make it very clear to you, I _can’t_ promise that—”

“No, no, that’s not—” Kisame shook his head, gripping Itachi’s hand. “That’s not how I meant it. It’s okay if you still get this way, you just—you need to tell me.”

“Tell you,” Itachi repeated slowly. “That’s…not always going to be easy.”

“If it was easy, it wouldn’t be something worth fighting for.”

Itachi furrowed his brows, glaring down at the floor. “I thought I was supposed to be the wise one.”

Kisame chuckled. “How about a special word.”

“A safe word?” Itachi asked.

“ _Absolutely_. But that’s a different conversation.” Kisame winked, poking Itachi in the ribs. “I mean something like a safe word. If you ever start feeling like this, just tell me—pancakes.”

“Pancakes,” Itachi repeated dubiously, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Sure, why not? I mean, it can be anything. Whatever you want. But you just tell me a word, and then I’ll _know_ what’s going on.” He kissed the top of Itachi’s head. “Even if I don’t totally know. And we can go from there, okay?”

“Pancakes.” Itachi hummed. “Okay. That could work.” He rested his head against Kisame’s shoulder. “I’m really so sorry for doing this to you,” he said in a small voice. “You didn’t deserve it.”

“And I really do forgive you.”

“I want to make things right,” Itachi said throatily, closing his eyes.

Kisame grinned. “So you’re admitting you want to keep me around?”

“Forever,” Itachi pressed into his shoulder, more lips than words.

“How convenient. I was thinking something similar just the other day.”

Itachi pulled back to look him in the eyes. There was that _grin_ —oh, finally, finally after so long of being starved from it. “Do you want to have sex?” Itachi offered.

Kisame’s eyebrows dented inwards. “Hey. I don’t ever want you to offer sex because you feel like you owe me, got it? _Ever_.”

Itachi shifted. “What if there’s something I want?”

Kisame tilted his head in close. “You know I’ll give you anything you want.”

“I really want to kiss you,” he mumbled, stretching up on his toes.

Kisame was a twisted combination of gentle and rough at the same time as he gripped Itachi’s face. His lips were demanding against Itachi’s, desperation roughing out the lingering sweetness. He kissed him like he was lonely, angry, and happy all at the same time. He kissed him like he missed him. Like he loved him.

Itachi tugged on his shirt and asked for more. Kisame obliged easily, lifting him up by the grip around his lower back and setting him on the kitchen counter so Itachi could lock his legs against his sides and not have to stretch. They kept their kisses slow and soft. It didn’t get sloppy, it wasn’t wet with tongues and passion. It was sweet, and it tasted like apologies and forgiveness meeting and mixing and settling.

“Mm,” Itachi hummed, and at first Kisame thought that it was a moan of pleasure, but then the hand in his hair pried his face away. He stared at Itachi’s spit-slick lips, grunted when Itachi swiped his tongue over them.

“I’m being so selfish,” Itachi whispered, dragging one hand over his hair.

“How?” Kisame frowned. “Itachi—”

“No, you don’t understand, this isn’t just—” He paused and searched for words. Came up empty. Stared helplessly at the ceiling.

Kisame examined him for a while. “There’s more, isn’t there.” He shifted, smoothing his hands up Itachi’s thighs. “Something else has happened besides this.”

“Perhaps,” Itachi acquiesced in a shaky voice.

“So this wasn’t the only reason you were avoiding me,” Kisame prodded, pressing his nose hard against the dip in Itachi’s neck.

“Not…exactly,” Itachi confessed, reluctant and tight. He kept one hand tangled tight in Kisame’s hair.

“I’m gonna need you to talk to me, then,” Kisame grunted.

Itachi bit his hip. He pulled Kisame a little closer, even when he tried to pull back. “Could we just…keep kissing for a little while longer?”

Kisame tugged himself out of Itachi’s hold. “Yes. After you talk to me.” He gave Itachi one peck, barely holding back when Itachi’s lips followed after him, asking for more.

“You are going to be very angry with me,” Itachi said around a swallow. “Very, very angry.”

Kisame stared at him, suspicious. “What’s happened,” he murmured.

Itachi’s gaze focused passed Kisame’s head at the wall.

“It’s Marcus.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who didn't see that coming lol
> 
> I'm not 100% sure what things to say or clarify. hm. 
> 
> the vodka thing is real. i know people who drink it. amazing. 
> 
> also moscow mules are ginger beer (similar to ginger ale) vodka and lime juice. 
> 
> So I really didn't...want things to seem as though Kisame and Itachi fell in love and then Itachi was CURED OF ALL MENTAL ANGUISH. Because that's...not how I think mental illness should be portrayed anymore. I thought, eh, Itachi can manage one more emotional melt down, right? ALSO REMEMBER. There's a lot about marcus you still don't know yet. 
> 
> Also, the scene where Itachi gets the food is kind of important. I tried to portray it the bet that I could, but in case I wasn't clear I want to explain it. It's not exactly invasive thoughts, hm, because from what I researched that's linked exclusively to OCD, but it's kind of similar. I'll have one bad thought that snowballs into worse and worse thoughts and I always settle on the extreme ends of things. It makes handling bad situations really EXTRA because instead of being able to deal with it I just wanna destroy my life. Feel? Itachi does this in that scene. My Itachi in this has this same 'invasive' thought type process, which is why he's all extremes so much. 
> 
> I'll add more to this if i think of it. uh. yeah. 
> 
> i love comments, that hasn't changed in my embarrassingly long absence. (although feedback would be...overwhelmingly appreciated given the circumstances. ^^;)
> 
> I've posted another kisaita oneshot if you haven't checked it out (and a shiita one, if you're into that.)
> 
> Have a wonderful day, beautiful people.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **IF YOU DIDN'T READ THE REVISED CHAPTER 9 YOU GOTTA**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **YOU GOTTA**
> 
>  
> 
> **NOTIN WILL MAKE SENSE IF YOU DONT**
> 
>  
> 
> chances are it wont even make sense if you did but what are you gonna do. I mean i could learn how to write and actually make my writing worthwhile, yeah ~~shut up~~
> 
> Even if you did reread the last chapter you might want to read like the last paragraph because this chapter literally picks up on the next line of dialogue.
> 
> i hope you guys have some low fucking expectations for this shitshow
> 
> we aren't going to talk about how long this took...........we arenot.....aksdjflkj
> 
> This chapter features two sex scenes ~~(Kisame really tried to make it three he really, really did)~~ , the boys make their own au...... and a....pillow fight.... 
> 
> This story was never supposed to have a plot i FUCCED IT UP sorry bout that fam this marcus fiasco is BULLSHIT
> 
> um lots of dialogue and some gooey shit sorry i don't know what to say. its a longer chapter.
> 
> i hope you enjoy <3

_“What?”_

Itachi sighed, closing his eyes.

“What does Marcus have to do with anything?” Kisame’s hands pressed tight onto the tops of Itachi’s thighs.

“He’s here,” Itachi said, waving one hand about briefly. “Around.”

“How do you know? Is he—has he _contacted_ you?”

“No,” Itachi answered immediately, and then hesitated and revised his statement. “A little.”

“A li—” Kisame’s jaw tightened. “How does someone contact you _a little_.”

Itachi stared at him for a second.

“Well?”

“You’re angry,” he said quietly.

“I’m—” Kisame swallowed, flexing his fingers around both of Itachi’s arms. “I need you to just—tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Itachi let out a quick little breath. “He's making it clear to me that he's trying to contact me,” Itachi started, fingers tapping into Kisame's thigh, “but it's not quite...overt.” He shifted on the counter, body language clearly displaying that he wanted to pull Kisame closer. “Technically, I don't know that's it's him.”

“Alright,” Kisame responded slowly. “When did it start?”

Itachi looked up at the ceiling for a second. “When you left for Upolu.”

Kisame looked appalled. “Back then? Baby, that was _months_ ago.”

“I didn't know,” Itachi countered immediately. “But I didn't know it was him until right around the time Sasuke won his scholarship.”

“...that's still been a _while_ , Itachi, why the fuck has it taken you so long to say anything?”

Itachi stiffened, drawing back. “I was hoping he would quit. I don't—Kisame, it's been years since he contacted me. Why would he start now? Why after all this time?”

“Does it matter? Does it matter _why_ your fucking abusive ex-boyfriend it stalking you? Christ,” he huffed. After a pause, “have you told Sasuke about this?”

“No,” Itachi responded softly, “because I didn't want him to become overly worried about something that he didn't need to be upset about.”

Kisame let out a sharp breath. “But, baby, I've been asking you about this—”

“I wasn't even sure it was him!” Itachi interrupted. “I didn't know if I was just being paranoid, or if something was really happening. I still don't know, Kisame.” He stayed silent for a few seconds. “See?” He eventually whispered with a tiny, humorless smile. “You're angry with me.”

Kisame stayed silent for a second. “I'm not—” He cut himself off mid-sentence. “I am.” He sighed. “Ah, fuck, Itachi.” Eventually, he relented with a sigh, tugging on Itachi's wrists. “Okay, okay. C'mere.”

Itachi reluctantly slid off the counter, stood hesitantly before Kisame’s towering frame.

Kisame stared at him and before wrinkling his nose. “Don’t look so unsure.” He took Itachi by his hands and pulled him in. He kissed his forehead. “Have you eaten today?”

“What?”

Kisame rubbed the back of his hand. “When’s the last time you ate.”

Itachi blinked up at him once. “Yesterday at lunch?”

Kisame groaned, breaking off into a tisk. He tugged on Itachi’s hand, leading him into the kitchen, and sat him down on a stool. He dug around in the fridge (internalizing another groan when he saw that it was close to empty). He snagged cheese and tomato out of the fridge and tossed them out of the counter. When he turned around, Itachi looked deflated.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Itachi’s gaze was fixed beyond him as he piped up, “you’re babysitting me again.”

Kisame turned towards the breadbox. “You forced me to eat when Thalia passed,” he countered. “You fretted over me incessantly when I got back from Upolu.” He got two pieces of bread from the plastic bag and twisted it back up. The click of the stove and following whoosh of the fire sparking to life filled the apartment. “There’s nothing wrong with taking care of each other. You’re allowed to be weak, babe.” He offered a smile. “I got you.”

Itachi rested his chin on his palm.

“You’re also allowed to get me to help before it gets this bad.”

He sighed. “So you’ve mentioned.”

Kisame grinned. He buttered the pan and set the bread to brown while he sliced the tomato and avocado. “What’s been up with you? How have you been?”

Itachi leaned over on the counter. “I don’t know. Bad.”

“Yeah?”

“Just…paranoid. Missed you,” he mumbled. “Naomi cut her hand really badly at work and I had to drive her to the hospital.”

Kisame blinked up in surprise at that. “I didn’t know you knew how to drive.”

“I don’t, really,” Itachi replied lightly. “It was quite stressful.” He wrinkled his nose. “There’s so many different things to think about, and everything is moving so fast.”

Kisame laughed. “Was that your first time driving?”

Itachi shook his head, watching Kisame press the grilled cheese to the pan with a spatula. “Suigetsu let me practice on his car a couple times, but I never went on the freeway those times.”

Kisame grinned, shaking his head. “Remind me to give you lessons.” He sucked some grease off his thumb. “Was Naomi okay?”

“Mmhmm. She almost passed out when she had to get the stitches, though. I hope you don’t mind that I held her hand quite a bit.”

Kisame snorted out loud. He pried the top of the sandwich open to slip in the avocado on top of the tomato. “I think I’ll manage to get over it.” When he slid it onto the plate and looked up, Itachi was smiling at him. “What are you thinking?” He asked, pulling a pair of scissors out of a drawer and cutting it in half.

Instead of saying anything, he held out his hand.

Kisame settled onto a stool next to him, laying a hand on his thigh and placing the sandwich on the counter.

“Tell me about your week,” Itachi said, picking up one of the slices.

“Mm.” Kisame squeezed his thigh. “I got drunk off my ass the other night. Other than that not a whole lot happened.” He paused, frowning. “Oh, shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

Kisame dug around in his pocket. “I still got Suigetsu’s phone.”

Itachi’s lips twitched. “How did you convince him to part with that, again?”

“You think I don’t got years of blackmail over that idiot?” He pushed black hair behind Itachi’s ear. “How’s the food.”

After a swallow, Itachi replied, “Very good. What would I do without you?”

“Starve, apparently,” Kisame quipped back, fingers curling around the back of Itachi’s neck.

He let Itachi finish the food, playing with his hair and gently rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re all tense again. I gotta give you another massage.”

“You just want an excuse to run your hands all over me.”

Kisame flashed a grin.

Itachi licked his lips and kissed Kisame on the cheek. “Thank you for the food,” he hummed, standing up to put his dishes in the sink. Kisame relocated to the couch. He settled into the cushions. He patted the spot next to him when he heard the water go off in the kitchen.

“What now,” Itachi asked reluctantly as he sank down next to Kisame.

“Do you feel better? Now that you got food in you?”

“…yes.”

“Good. Now it’s story time.” Kisame grinned. It was tight, not very joyful.

“Right,” Itachi mumbled. “What do you….”

“Start from the beginning,” he instructed. “What has he done so far?’

Itachi’s gaze lingered against his for a moment. “I was ding-dong ditched a few times. He sent me blank texts and called me and said nothing,” he replied shortly. “I didn’t think anything of it.” He sagged against the couch. “Later he sent me a giant bouquet of flowers.”

“The ones you said Maria sent you?”

Itachi looked to the side. “Yes.”

“Hm.”

Itachi took another breath and continued. “Later, chocolates and giftcards.”

Kisame leaned forward. “How do you know he sent them?”

“He signed them all as ‘Your Secret Admirer.’”

Kisame raised an eyebrow.

“That’s how we met,” Itachi clarified, lifting one leg to tuck it under him. “At the bookstore, I started getting little gifts from a secret admirer. I’ve always been a little bit of a hopeless romantic, so it made me feel awfully special.” He hummed. “My only experience with boyfriends was what I had read in books.  Marcus frequented the shop, and eventually I figured out it was him.” An almost fond smile lingered on his lips. “It was quite romantic.”

“Quite,” Kisame grumbled.

Itachi’s smile bloomed more genuinely. He reached one hand up, poking Kisame’s cheek.

Kisame jerked his chin up. “What are you acting all cheeky for.”

Itachi scooted a little closer. “I do not like it when you’re upset with me.”

“I don’t like it when you talk about him like you miss him,” Kisame replied gruffly.

“I do not miss him,” Itachi replied easily, “but I did love him, my dear.”

Kisame’s jaw flexed.

“I do not love him any longer,” Itachi continued calmly. “My dear. Kisame.”

Kisame sighed. “Alright, alright.” He reached out for Itachi’s hand, twining their fingers together. “Is that how you’re guessing it’s him?”

“Yes,” Itachi said lightly. “And also….” He cleared his throat. “When we were at The Spaghetti Factory, do you remember how we got an extra dish we didn’t order at the very end?”

“Yeah,” Kisame muttered, brow furrowed, “what about it?”

“Spinach ravioli with cream sauce,” Itachi said with a displeased frown, “was what Marcus had me order whenever we went out to eat.”

Kisame propped one arm against the back of the couch. “Why would he do that?”

“Because I hated it.” Itachi pursed his lips. “I told him I didn’t like ravioli or spinach, and he had me order it the next time he took me to dinner,” he crawled forward, pushing himself into Kisame’s lap, “just to prove that he could make me do it.” He stared at Kisame’s face, settling into the cradle of his arms. “He liked being in control.”

Kisame huffed, squeezing him tightly.

Itachi smiled.

“You seem to be in a better mood,” he noted.

“I feel safe.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You tend to have that effect on me.” He bit his smile between his lips and traced the shape of Kisame’s lower lip.

Kisame stared at him for a long second. “Cheeky,” he eventually snorted. “Stop trying to distract me.”

“I’m not,” Itachi defended.

“Then keep explaining.”

Itachi scooted closer. “The other…night,” he started, “I woke up to one hundred and twenty new text messages.”

Kisame raised an eyebrow.

“They were pictures of your house, Kisame. He sent me a different picture of your house every other minute for _four hours_.” He looked for words, came up empty. “I’m so sorry.”

“My house?” Kisame mumbled, whole face pinched up. “I—shit.” He kissed at Itachi’s hair. “Shit, baby.”

“Yeah,” Itachi echoed quietly. “I left so early because I freaked out. I thought he would confront me.” He paused, frowning. “I tried to get him to confront me.”

“You fucking _what_?”

“Oh, don’t be over dramatic.” Itachi rolled his eyes. “You’re acting like he beat me half to death on the regular,” he grumbled. “I’m not going to drop dead by talking to him.”

“Why would you want to talk to him in the first place?”

Itachi tugged at the ends of his hair. “I want to know why he’s doing this. I want to know why he’s dragging _you_ into this.” He sighed a little sharply, deflating. He stared at the wall. “I wanted to fix this myself for once. I just wanted to fucking _fix_ this part of my life. This was the one thing I really thought I had under control, I thought I healed from it and moved on and—”

“Hey, Itachi—”

“—but he still _controls me_ , Kisame. That was his whole thing when we were together, he just poked and pushed me to see what he could get me to do, to see what he could get to stick. And its been two and a half years and he still _controls me._ He got me to break up with you, he got me to run around in fear for two weeks. Everything he sent me made me change my behavior, everything he did—he _knew_ how I would react and he—!”

“ _Hey_.” Kisame gripped the sides of his face. “Hey. Baby. Take a deep breath, it’s okay.”

“It’s _not_ okay,” he protested. His eyes were intense when he looked up at Kisame. “This was the one demon I really thought I killed, Kisame, but he still _owns_ me.”

“ _No_.” Kisame’s response was instantaneous, voice _sharp_. “He absolutely does not. None of that bullshit, Itachi. He doesn’t own a single thing about you. You have a right to be frightened, that doesn’t make you weak to him.”

Itachi sighed. He let his head rest against Kisame’s shoulder. “This is the one demon I thought I killed, Kisame, and I haven’t.”

“It’s never too late, Itachi. This was an outlier situation, this doesn’t mean that your fight against him is over.”

Silence floated between them for a bit.

“Have you at least gone to the police about this?” Kisame asked, frowning.

“No.”

“Why—why not, Itachi.”

He remained very calm, untroubled. “I don’t exactly love police stations.”

“Ah—” Kisame closed his eyes “—ah shit, babe, I’m sorry. Forgot about that.”

“It’s quite alright.” He leaned his head against Kisame’s shoulder. “I really should get over it. Every time I enter a station, though, I feel like I’m going to set off a bunch of red alarms and get accused of murder again.” He sighed. “When I got fingerprinted before I could tutor minors I nearly passed out and broke my skull on the machine.”

Kisame kissed his forehead a few times. “How about I go with you.”

“And do what?”

“File a restraining order, for one.”

Itachi paused. “Okay,” he said slowly. His shoulders slumped forward a little. “I didn’t want this to…be anything. I didn’t want this to be a big deal.”

“It’s not your fault.” He soothed a hand down Itachi’s arms. “I need to know—”

“Kisame,” he interrupted, brow furrowed into a puppy-pout. “I’m not trying to keep anything from you,” he began, “I just really don’t want to talk about this anymore. Can we do something else? Just for tonight.”

Kisame appraised him for a long few seconds. “You do look exhausted.”

“Because I _am._ ” Itachi scooted forward, one hand slipping over Kisame’s thigh. “So let’s just…talk?”

“Talk.”

“And kiss?”

“Ah.” Kisame’s lips twitched. “Is that where you’re trying to go with this.”

“What? You promised me more kisses,” Itachi murmured, slinking closer.

“Did I?” Kisame pressed his thumb to Itachi’s eyebrow.

“You did.” Itachi kissed his cheek. “Won’t you love on me a little?” He kissed him again. “Even though I don’t deserve it?”

Kisame tutted, relenting, strong fingers gripping Itachi by the hips. “None of that, babe.” He pulled him close up against his body, nosing against his neck. “None of that.” He gave in to Itachi’s tugging fingers and settled on top of him. His lips pressed patterns into Itachi’s skin, mouthing softly around the swell of his collar bone.

Itachi let out a happy sigh. “I’m so selfish,” he murmured. His fingers pushed into Kisame’s hair and tugged gently. “And stupid,” his lips slipped open when he felt teeth nip at his skin, “for trying to give this up. I’d have you do this all day, if I could.”

“I could take you up on that offer,” Kisame grunted, letting his tongue lick at a spot under his jaw. “I could do this a lot longer than a day.” 

Itachi brought his leg up to the side so Kisame’s hips could slot comfortably against his. “Remember what you said about being _very good_ to me earlier?”

Kisame’s bit at his bottom lip. “You’re trying to seduce me.” He kissed him more fully. “Rude. I’m still trying to be mad at you.”

“I’m doing no such thing,” Itachi murmured between kisses.  His hands pulled out of Kisame’s hair to cup his cheeks, brushing against the coolness of Kisame’s ear piercings along the way. “I love you.”

Kisame responded with his lips, and Itachi was completely fine with that.

They heard Naruto’s laughter before the door opened, thankfully.

Itachi jerked under Kisame, murmuring regretfully has he pushed his face off and closed his legs.

They were more or less appropriately positioned by the time Sasuke entered the apartment, Naruto piggy-backing on him.

“Kisame?” Sasuke raised an eyebrow, nudging off Naruto (who was hanging onto him like an octopus) and tossing his keychain on the kitchen counter. “Long time no see.”

Kisame chuckled once. “Yeah?” He nudged Itachi’s hip. “See what you did? Your brother was missing me.”

“I would not use such strong language,” Sasuke quipped back, smirking. After a moment, his expression clouded. “Wait,” he started, “‘what he did?’”

Kisame grinned, patting the top of Itachi’s legs. “Actually—Itachi has a fun story for you.”

Itachi glowered a little sulkily.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow. He shooed Naruto off and into the hallway, keeping a suspicious gaze on his brother. “A whole story, this time?”

“A trilogy,” Kisame replied smugly.

Itachi folded his arms stiffly. “Since when did this become so amusing to you?”

“Just trying to stay calm, babe,” Kisame replied, smile drawing tight. “If I don’t constantly distract myself I’ll get furious again.”

Itachi slumped into the cushions of the couch.

“Now I’m worried,” Sasuke muttered, sitting across from them on the coffee table. He tried to get Itachi to meet his gaze. “Itachi?”

He let out a breath. “So,” he cleared his throat, “do you remember Marcus?”

Sasuke’s face dropped, expression darkening. “Oh, _hell_ no, Itachi, don’t you fucking _dare_ —” He broke off, switching his gaze to Kisame. “Is this a joke?”

Kisame shrugged, turning the question back to Itachi.

Once everything was all out in the open, vomited ugly against the carpeted floor, Sasuke had broken the hardware of the TV remote.

“Okay,” Kisame murmured out the corner of his mouth, “maybe I see why you didn’t exactly want to tell him.”

All in all, it took about ten minutes for Sasuke to calm down.

“I’m gonna rip his balls off.”

Well, relatively calm.

“Sasuke,” Itachi sighed, “it’s going to be alright.”

“It’ll be alright after I skin him alive,” he snapped back.

“I got dibs on his face,” Kisame snickered, raising a hand.

Itachi frowned. “Neither of you are engaging him any sort of way. You’re both overreacting.”

Sasuke’s eyes bugged. “This is—”

“Manageable,” Kisame interrupted, leaning forward, setting aside the jokes to be serious. “Marcus can’t _do_ anything. Weird texts and anonymous gifts only go so far.”

Sasuke blinked, as if waiting for more. “I’m still gonna fucking kill him?”

Itachi sagged exhausted against the couch. “Please, enough.”

“ _Enough_?!”

“Neither of you are getting physically violent with him,” he said in a tired voice. He looked at Kisame. “I mean it.”

“I know,” he replied, voice gruff. “I know.”

“Promise me,” he insisted, sitting up, gaze flicking between the two of them. “Promise me that _neither_ of you will physically hurt him.” Through the awkward silence, his face screwed up. “Seriously?” he whispered.

Kisame grunted, shifting, kicking one leg up on the coffee table. “I promise, babe, if that’s what you want.”

“It _is_.”

Sasuke glowered at the floor. “Promise.” He angrily kicked the ball of his foot against the carpet. “What’s the plan, then? What are we supposed to do if we can’t kick his ass?”

“Yes, Sasuke, because violence is truly the only solution,” Itachi quipped sharply.

“We get it,” Sasuke snapped, “you’re a pacifistic prick.”

“Woah, woah, hey,” Kisame interceded, holding a hand out towards Sasuke. “Let’s not fight. Sasuke, we’re going to file a report with the police department, and we can get a restraining order if we need to. Now that we know, we can be more vigilant. This guy is clearly a coward—if he knows that we’re looking out for him he’s going to back down.”

Sasuke huffed.

“His whole intention was to really throw Itachi off of his game and manipulate him, that’s why he’s been so passive.” He glanced towards Itachi.

Itachi nodded a little reluctantly. “He’s not going to do anything bolder, not if he knows he’s being watched for.”

“See?” Kisame stared at Sasuke. “We can calm down a little.”

“Fine,” Sasuke muttered. “But—to be fair, you didn’t _see_ what happened to Itachi during the Marcus era.”

“And for the last time,” Itachi protested, gently, “that was not even primarily Marcus’ fault.”

“Whatever,” Sasuke muttered. “Sorry for getting mad.”

“It’s okay, little brother, I understand.”

Kisame relaxed a little, feeling the tension quell.

Itachi sat back against the couch cushions with a huff. Kisame pulled him against his chest, kissing the top of his hair. He gave him a squeeze.

“I’m going to head back to my house real quick,” he murmured against his temple.

Itachi jerked back. “You’re leaving?” Looked worried. Kisame’s heart fluttered.

“Just for a few minutes,” he assured, getting up from the couch. “I’m gonna grab some stuff and come back.”

Itachi tilted his head the side, brow pinching together. “Why?” He lightly scratched Kisame’s arm with his blunt nails. “Just stay.”

“I plan to. I’m gonna crash here for a few nights.”

“Yeah?” Itachi perked up.

Sasuke stared at him passively from his slumped perch on the table.

“Until this all blow over.” Kisame patted his pockets for his phone and keys. “I’m not leaving you alone if some crazy fuck is skittering around your apartment.” He glances at Sasuke. “Either of you, for that matter.”

“And what are you gonna do,” Sasuke taunted, “if he shows up?”

“Deck his—” his gaze slanted to Itachi. “ _If_ he tries to touch Itachi, I’ll deck his ass.”

Itachi sighed.

“Deal? I’ll be civil, but if he tries to lay a finger on you he’s done.”

“Alright,” Itachi relented. “Fair is fair. Although I severely doubt he will do anything so forward.”

“ _Okay_ ,” Sasuke continued, “and if he doesn’t?”

Kisame grinned. “C’mon, now, Sasuke. Would you pick a fight with me?” He tensed up his shoulders, arms flexing and swelling.

Sasuke glowered.

“That’s what I thought.” He turned back to Itachi, whose eyes were still appreciatively lingering on his muscles. “Besides, I don’t think I could sleep apart from you now that I know.”

“I thought that you couldn’t sleep apart from me anyway,” Itachi murmured, a little coyly, stretching one hand towards his arm.

Kisame caught his hand and squeezed, grinning. “You know me so well.”

Itachi got up to meet him by the door, hands fluttering around his waist. “You’ll come straight back?”

“Mm.” He kissed him once. “I will.”

“How long are you going to stay?” Itachi asked, snuggling in close.

“How long do you want me?”

Itachi smiled, letting Kisame’s big arms pull him up and against his chest. “You can’t ask me that.”

Kisame peppered kisses across Itachi’s cheek. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He paused, giving a second to make eye contact. “Love you,” he said as he opened the door, tacking on the almost automatic phrase, getting used to saying it out loud and casually.

“Love you,” Itachi murmured back immediately, letting Kisame walk out the door. “Drive safely.”

Itachi was locking the door when Sasuke grunted from behind him.

“What happened between you two?” He asked. “You guys are acting…weird.”

Itachi hummed, tapping his fingers against the door. “I’ve been avoiding him the past couple weeks.”

“Because of Marcus?”

“Clearly.”

Sasuke frowned. “So all that you told me about him being busy or you going to lunch with him was bullshit?”

“I didn’t want you to be suspicious,” Itachi defended half-heartedly, moving to the kitchen. He turned on the tap in the sink and pushed it to hot. He filled the pan Kisame used for the grilled cheese and set it to soak as he soaped up the dish.

“Fucker,” Sasuke muttered. After a moment, “There’s something else. You guys seem…weird.”

“You’ve said that once already,” Itachi quipped, looking up with a smile. “He took me to bed, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Sasuke’s nose scrunched up of its own volition. “Amazing.”

Itachi smirked a little. “It was.”

“And….” Sasuke continued awkwardly.

“And?”

“You know,” he waved a hand, “how did it go.”

Itachi started laughing, snorting down into his soapy hand. He sobered up and said, “Very, very well.” He shrugged. “For a first time, at least. I especially need more practice, but I don’t think he’ll have a problem indulging me in that.”

“Right,” Sasuke muttered, shuffling.

“Oh, don’t act so sheepish. You brought it up.”

“Just trying to be there for you,” he said around a clear of his throat. “And he was…good to you?”

Itachi smiled. “He was a perfect gentleman. I knew he would be.” He shook the plate off in the sink, letting the water drops fly down against the porcelain of the sink. “We will not act inappropriately here if that is what you’re worried about.”

“No, that’s not—” Sasuke let his head roll back, staring at the ceiling. “ _Actually_ , I wanted to tell you that I’m giving you my mattress.”

Itachi raised an eyebrow. “What? Why.”

“Be _cause_ ,” he explained, crossing his arms, “you have a twin, and I have a full. You have a boyfriend….”

Itachi blinked. “You do, too.”

“Itachi,” Sasuke drawled, “you’re going to take my bed.”

Itachi frowned. He finished drying the plate and stowed it back in the cupboard. “You need a big bed to sleep well in. You brain needs the best rest.”

“ _Itachi_.”

A blink. “What?”

“Don’t argue with me on this one, okay? I can sleep damn fine in a twin bed.” He frowned. “Consider it penance for lying to me for so long.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair.”

Itachi stared, stumped. “Are you facilitating Kisame’s sexual relations with me?”

“Are you facilitating the dictionary of the 17th century?”

“That was weak,” Itachi tisked.

“You got me off my game,” Sasuke retorted. “Talking about your sex life is…weird.”

“You’ve become so suddenly fond of that word,” Itachi lilted lightly, finishing wiping down the counter.

“Fuck off,” Sasuke muttered, sulking away. “Come help me switch the beds.”

Itachi’s version of helping was watching and quietly directing a squawking Naruto and scathing Sasuke as the struggled to hoist Itachi’s metal box spring through the door and into the living room. They struggled even more with Sasuke’s, since it was bigger and heavier. He let them take care of the manual labor while he started the bedding off in the washing machine.

“Onii-chan,” Naruto whined. “Can’t you help?”

“I am helping,” he answered easily. “I’m your eyes. You’re going to hit the door jam, by the way.”

Naruto, predictably, bonked his forehead anyways.

When Kisame returned to the apartment, Naruto had his head in Itachi lap, playing a game on his phone. Sasuke was scrolling through food delivery listings, Naruto’s legs thrown across his lap. Naruto whined when Itachi tried to get up to answer the door, so Sasuke greeted Kisame.

He raised his eyebrow and stepped out of the way, eyeing Kisame’s bag. “You never did say how long you were planning to stay.”

“Am I unwelcomed?”

“No,” Itachi cut in immediately, “you absolutely are.”

Kisame smiled over at him, setting his bag on the floor by the couch and leaning down to kiss his cheek.

“I was just _wondering_ ,” Sasuke grumbled. “You didn’t bring much.”

Kisame kissed on Itachi a few more times. “I’ll run back to my house as needed.”

“Ne, Kisame,” Naruto said, smiling up from Itachi’s lap. “There’s a present for you in Itachi’s room.”

Kisame raised an eyebrow. “Is there? Seeing as Itachi is sitting here completely clothed, I can’t imagine what it could be.”

Itachi sent Kisame a dirty look, flicking Naruto’s forehead when he laughed too loudly.

“Anyways,” Sasuke said, glaring from his seat on the floor, “I’m ordering food for everyone here but Kisame.”

“Aw, come on,” he said good-naturedly, throwing an arm over Itachi’s shoulders. He looked over. “Are you gonna let him treat me like that?”

“I might,” Itachi sniffed.

“Jeez, all for a harmless joke.” He felt Itachi relax a little against his side, getting comfy. “What are you ordering, Sasuke?”

“Thai. Not that it’s any of your business.”

Kisame grinned. “Sheesh.” He looked down at Naruto, who still had his head pillowed on Itachi’s thighs, tongue poking out of his lips. “Why are you acting like a five year old, again?”

“When is he not,” Sasuke muttered.

Naruto smiled. “Onii-chan is very nurturing.”

“Who now?”

“It’s an affectionate term for older brother,” Itachi murmured, running his thumb across Naruto’s forehead.

“Whoa-oh,” Kisame shot a surprised glance at Sauske. “You’re just gonna let someone call Itachi their older brother, too? Woulda thought you were a little too jealous for that.”

Sasuke didn’t find it too humorous.

“Itachi’s like the neighborhood big brother,” Naruto said, getting up and folding his legs under him.

Itachi raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Naruto smiled. “It’s hard not to love you, ya know?”

Itachi laughed a little. “I’m not quite sure I do, but thank you anyway.”

“Hey, Itachi.”

Itachi blinked over, not used to Naruto addressing him by anything other than pet names.

“I know that, like. Stuff is really shitty right now? But you’ve got,” his smile brightened a little, “you’ve got all of us. Me, and Karin, and Suigetsu. Juugo, too.” He hummed, eyes glittery blue. “I lost my family, too, ya know? And Karin’s parents aren’t good to her, and—” he chuckled a little nervously. “What I’m trying to say is that—we made our own little family. So you’re not alone. We’re—we’re Nakama.”

The word managed to snap him out of his stunned state. “Nakama?” he rasped. “Just how much Japanese has Sasuke taught you?”

“Only the things he pesters me for,” Sasuke drawled. “Not everything he’s learned is actually what he thinks it means, though.”

Naruto threw a pillow at him. “Bastard! You said you wouldn’t lie to me!”

Sasuke snorted. “You said you wouldn’t use any of the words out loud.”

“It’s a _special circumstance_ , Sasuke. Special circumstance! Do you not want me to be nice to your brother?”

“Did Itachi _ask_ for your melodramatic spewing?”

Sputtering. “ _Melodramatic_?”

Kisame pressed his lips against Itachi’s ear. “They always like this?”

“Spectacularly, yes.” Itachi shifted against him.

Kisame kissed his temple. “Hey. All that stuff Naruto said. That’s not news to you, is it?” Itachi didn’t reply, and he frowned. “You really don’t get how loved you are?”

Itachi met his eyes, rubbing his palm on the top of Kisame’s thigh. “I don’t know how to respond. That’s all.” His voice was soft.

Kisame kissed him a few more times. “Just make sure you don’t forget.”

Naruto and Sasuke stopped bickering long enough for Itachi to remind them they were in the middle of ordering food. They ordered from Naruto’s favorite Thai place—pad see ew, panang, drunken noodles, mango curry, fried rice, tom kha, Thai tea all around. Itachi did not think he had ever ordered so much food for one meal alone, but Naruto’s stomach really did have vacuum cleaner like capacities sometimes.  

They fucked around until the food arrived, Naruto proving once again that he was the life of the party. Itachi was very content to watch him and Sasuke fake bicker, or watch Kisame wrestle Naruto into a pretzel on the floor.

The food was good, all warm and spicy and creamy.

The company was even better, nothing but laughs and jokes and fake food fights. Itachi scooted his chair close enough to Kisame’s that he could press their sides together.

Kisame licked hot orange curry off of his spoon. “Someone’s acting clingy,” he grunted, reaching across the table to dish out more crispy tofu for Itachi.

 “Sorry,” Itachi murmured immediately, shrinking away from him.

Kisame grinned, shaking his head, and then tugged Itachi back against him again. “I didn’t say I minded.”

Itachi poked a flat noodle on his plate. “I really did miss this.”

Kisame stared at him for a long second. “You know we’re always here for you. As long as you don’t push us away.”

“I know,” Itachi replied softly. “It’s hard.”

Kisame grinned and squeezed his hand. “I’m harder.”

Itachi snorted. “Over me or the Thai food?”

“Isn’t it obvious? The food is unbelievable.”

“Shut up,” Itachi said, eyes happy, losing the fight against his smile. “You love me.”

“I love you, but the food is the one turning me on.” Kisame’s grin was infectious.

Itachi pursed his lips. “I can change that,” he promised, sliding a hand down Kisame’s chest and to the top of his thigh.

“ _Hands where I can see them!”_ Sasuke suddenly snapped, glaring away from the noodles Naruto was trying to feed him.

Itachi rested his chin on Kisame’s shoulder and moved his hand back to the swell of his sternum. “I was being perfectly appropriate.”

“Itachi here is just jealous of a crate of curry, that’s all.” Kisame sent Sasuke a wink.

Sasuke kicked him under the table. “Don’t touch my brother,” he muttered under his breath.

“ _He_ was touching _me_.”

Itachi perched his chin on the top of Kisame’s shoulder and smiled cheekily.

They all did the dishes together, creating a line that put away leftovers, cleaned, dried, and stored dishes. Kisame cleaned, handing them off to Naruto to dry; Itachi just about danced around the kitchen putting things away, feeling lighter than air with his family around him. He kept brushing up against Kisame at the counter—touching his ass, dragging his fingers subtly along his arm. Just little shit that drove Kisame fucking wild (like Itachi knew it would), and it was literally only Sasuke’s presence that kept him from pinning Itachi to the counter and grinding against him until Itachi melted.

It didn’t stop when Kisame and Itachi retreated back into the bedroom (and Naruto and Sasuke stayed lounging in the sitting room, eating ice cream and watching Ru Paul’s Drag Race). Itachi rubbed up against him, teased him with little kisses.

“ _What_ has gotten you so feisty?” Kisame growled, grabbing Itachi by the jaw and tilting his face up.

Itachi’s mouth was open, eyes hazy, and Kisame cursed his dick for how excited it got.

“You want me,” Itachi hummed.

Kisame raised an eyebrow. “Shit, that’s all? You know I’ve wanted you this whole time, right?”

Itachi smiled, leaning back so that Kisame’s hand against his back supported him. “Yes, but now you’ve had me.”

“And you thought that was going to change anything?

“The chase is half the fun, isn’t that what they say?” Itachi asked more or less innocently.

“ _No_ , its not,” Kisame argued. “The chase is painful. The chase is waking up from wet dreams with hard-ons and making cold showers part of a daily routine. All it does is help create a really creative imagination!”

Itachi snickered. “Are you saying you’ve been getting yourself off just thinking about me?”

“I mean— _yeah_.” He held up his hands. “I tried not to, at first, okay? But then—I’m just jerkin it and there you are, in my head, with your fucking long hair and legs and pretty lips and—” Kisame broke off with a groan.

Itachi laughed. “You are too much.” He lovingly tweaked Kisame’s nose. “I don’t mind, by the way. I have, too, after al.”

Kisame stared, eyes flicking around the room. “What…are you talking about.”

Itachi tilted his head cutely. His eyes, though, his eyes were not cute. His eyes were lusty and tempting, just about daring Kisame to bend him over and eat him out until he lost his mind.

At least, that’s how Kisame interpreted it.

“Are you telling me that you’ve touched yourself thinking about me?”

“Only once or twice,” he dismissed, nonchalant, unaware of how he was setting Kisame’s blood to boil. “Why do you think I kept asking for your clothes?”

“I’m going to die,” Kisame decided, leaning back against the wall. “I’m literally going to die.”

Itachi rolled his eyes. “You have gotten so dramatic since when I first met you.”

“I am genuinely not joking.” He tapped his hand against his thigh. “You still masturbate into my sweatshirts?”

A wrinkle of his nose. “I have not even once done that,” he clarified. “And no, I don’t need to anymore, right? We had sex, Kisame.”

Kisame groaned. “I remember. So does my dick.”

Itachi bit the smile out of his bottom lip. “It feels good.”

“My dick?”

“ _Yes_. But I meant…making you flustered.”

Kisame’s ears practically drooped. “So you’re going to make teasing me a regular thing?”

Itachi shrugged one shoulder coyly, pulling away. “We’ll see how much fun it proves.”

“Amazing. I look forward to the torture.”

Itachi looked cheeky.

“So,” Kisame started with a gust of air, “what do you want to do, since your brother and Naruto have claimed the TV?”

“What do I want to do?”

“Yeah.” Kisame leaned against the wall. “We can borrow your brother’s laptop to watch Netflix, or I can braid your hair, or we can fuck….”

Itachi snorted. “Just snuck that one in there, huh?” He walked back over to Kisame, lilt in his step, until he was right in front of him, only an inch apart.

“Hi,” Kisame said.

“Hi.” Itachi looked up at him from under his thick eyelashes. “I’ve decided.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to take a bath with you,” he hummed, splaying his fingers across Kisame’s pecs.

“Yeah?” Kisame grinned languidly, proud of how Itachi seemed to be so fascinated with his muscles.

“Yeah. I want to crawl into a bunch of warm water and curl against your chest, and have you hold me until my skin is all pruney.”

Kisame let his head tilt forward. “That’s, that sounds—yeah. Let’s do that.”

Itachi looked up from under his eyelashes. “Too bad this apartment doesn’t have a bathtub.”

Kisame groaned. “You know Itachi, sometimes....”

“Hmm. It's probably for the better. Do you think if you had me naked and slippery against you you could control your dick at all?

“If you even refer to yourself as slippery one more time I won't have control of my dick at all.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” Itachi said coyly, slipping his hands under Kisame’s shirt. He scraped his nails across Kisame’s sides. “Maybe that’s what I want.”

“What exactly?” Kisame asked, voice raspy. “You know I’ll give you anything.”

“Just you,” Itachi murmured, “and maybe a little less control.”

Kisame _squeezed_ his waist. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Maybe,” he hummed, “maybe, with such a big bed, we could love on each other a little.”

Kisame shuddered.

“But first I want to shower.”

“Right.” Kisame nodded a few times, ran his hand over the back of his head, and tried to cool himself off. “I’ll hop in when you’re done.”

Itachi looked at him expectantly. “Or….”

“Or?”

“Or you could join me,” he murmured. He shoved one thumb into the waistband of Kisame’s jeans.

Kisame couldn’t help himself from saying out loud, “Oh god.”

Itachi tilted his head. His grin was becoming harder to hide away. “Was that a yes?”

“Yes, baby, yes, anything you want,” Kisame breathed, burrowing his nose into Itachi’s hair. “Oh, for fucks sake, Itachi, you’re going to be the _death of me_.”

“You’ve already said that.” Itachi took one of his hand and led him backwards towards the door. “Come on, then.”

They _almost_ made it into the bathroom undetected. Sasuke sent them a small glare, but disappeared back into his room without saying anything. Kisame let the door click quietly behind them, eyes trained intently on Itachi, nearly vibrating from the intensity between them.

Itachi turned the water on and twisted it to warm up before he turned back towards him, looking a little too pleased with himself. He grabbed onto Kisame’s hands, tugged him forward into a kiss. The steam from the shower began to warm the room.

The hands pushing under Kisame’s clothes helped.

“You just can’t keep your hands off of me today,” Kisame muttered, one hand popping the button to Itachi’s pants.

“Have you seen yourself?” He breathed back, sucking on Kisame’s bottom lip. “How am I supposed to keep my hands off of you?”

“You don’t,” Kisame replied around a smile. His eyes were locked on Itachi’s spit-slicked lips.

Itachi took a step back to pull his shirt up and over his head. His pants were already unbuttoned courtesy of Kisame, so he slid them down his legs easily.

Kisame stumbled out of his clothes without looking down. He was too busy looking at Itachi. Obviously.

Itachi didn’t hesitate until they were both stripped down to their underwear. His fingers fluttered over the waistband of his boxer briefs, eyes suddenly fixed on the floor.

Kisame swallowed. “Babe, if you don’t want to, it’s fine. We don’t gotta; I can wait in the room.”

Itachi flicked his eyes up. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m just nervous.” He smirked a little. “Something I’m betting I should get over, since you’re probably going to be seeing me naked quite often, no?”

Kisame grinned, sidling forward so he could pull Itachi’s body against him. “That’s the plan.” He ran his hands up Itachi’s back a few times, tracing a thumb up his spine, massaging his fingertips into the swells of his muscles. Itachi tilts his head back when Kisame starts mouthing at the top of his shoulder. Kisame’s removed his own underwear and slipped his fingers into Itachi’s, helping coax them off.

Itachi shivered once before pulling away. Kisame pawed after him.

“We’re wasting water,” Itachi chided softly, tugging the hair band out of his hair. His eyes were dark, smoky and murky, when he turned away again to get in the shower.

Kisame didn’t follow him, because he got distracted staring at his ass.

“Are you still planning to join me?” He asked, drawing Kisame out of his trance. Water cascaded down his shoulder and across his stomach in rivulets, and he ran one hand through his hair as he stepped under the water.

Only a second later, he felt Kisame press up against his back, lips kissing on the skin behind his ear.

“I did come here to actually shower,” he said with a little laugh, catching Kisame’s hand as it dipped in between his thighs.

“I just wanna touch you,” he grunted, wrapping an arm around his waist.

Itachi laughed again as he leaned back into his hold. He tilted his head back, puffing water off of his lips as the shower head poured over his face. One of Kisame’s hands left him, and he heard the squelchy click of a soap bottle opening. Itachi decided to let Kisame do what he pleased. He aimed his head towards the faucet, grabbing the washcloth off the rack and spreading face wash on it.

Kisame’s hands spent a few more seconds roaming lazily over his slick skin; sometimes his fingers twitched, like he was holding back from something. Eventually Itachi felt suds spill over his shoulders. Kisame used the soapy loofah to scrub at Itachi’s skin, starting with his stomach and chest. His fingers pressed gentle patterns against him, soap slipping between them. He moved on to Itachi’s back, then his arms. He crouched down to finish cleaning his legs. The whole time, he washed him with a reverence, almost.

“Enjoying yourself?” Itachi asked, wringing the washcloth and rehanging it.

“Yes,” Kisame murmured, rising up. “Are you?”

Itachi smiled. He leaned forward and gave him a sweet kiss. “I have something for you.”

“Yeah?”

Itachi grabbed the jar of coconut oil off the shower rack and held it up proudly. “I listened to your advice,” he murmured, screwing off the lid.

In between the kisses he was laying to the tops of Itachi’s shoulders, Kisame chuckled.

They finished showering, Kisame taking great time running the oil through Itachi’s hair while Itachi traced patters about his skin.

Itachi was scrubbing the shampoo out of Kisame’s hair when Kisame grunted and took hold of his hand.

“Baby,” he started, squeezing his fingers. “I’m getting kind of….”

Itachi snickered. “I know. I can feel you pressing into my thigh.”

“Oops.”

Itachi smiled, rubbing Kisame’s hair once more and kissing him on the nose. He turned around and shut the water off before slicking water off of his skin with his hands. He hopped out of the shower and fetched two fluffy white towels, tossing one at Kisame.

Kisame started pawing at him when he wrapped his hair up in the towel.

“Kisame,” Itachi chided, smiling with his eyes.

“You said we could love on each other,” Kisame murmured, tilting his head up to kiss him.

“I believe I specified something about a bed.”

“Then let’s get out of here.”

Kisame could barely hold himself back from tugging the towel off of Itachi’s waist as they scurried back into his room. It didn’t say on a second longer once the bedroom door was closed.

“What’s gotten into you?” Itachi breathed, bracing himself onto Kisame’s thick arms as a pattern of bites was littered around his throat.

“Now it’s me who can’t keep their hands off you,” he murmured.

Itachi tumbled back on the bed, letting his legs fall open to welcome Kisame’s hips against his. He gasped when Kisame shoved a hand under his jaw, jerking his head back to stretch out the longest expanse of pale skin possible.

“So rough,” he muttered, digging his nails into Kisame’s skin just a little.

Kisame grunted. “Sorry.” He immediately softened his motions, slowed his grinding.

“I did not say that I minded,” Itachi corrected.

Kisame grinned at him, then, wild and lusty, and Itachi shuddered against the mattress. Kisame kept the extension of his neck, licking long stripes and following them with bites. He continued sucking on his skin while he grinded, getting Itachi hard. Itachi surprised him with a semi-shy hand that slipped between their hips. His fingers curled around Kisame’s dick, slicking his hand up and down in slow motion as Kisame rocked.

“That’s how you do it,” Kisame chuckled, biting Itachi’s ear lobe.

“And are you going to do anything besides chew on my neck?” Itachi asked breathily, getting into it enough to roll his hips up.

Kisame hummed. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it.” He relocated his lips over Itachi’s mouth, though, slipping his eyes closed as he worked a hand between them.

It was—heaven, Kisame would say, having Itachi naked and soft and warm under him. It didn’t even have to be true fucking; touching and rubbing like this felt so damn good. Feeling the kisses turn sloppy as Itachi’s breath slipped out of wack, feeling Itachi’s hips strain up off the bed every few seconds or watching him lick at his lips. Fuck, just having Itachi’s fingers rubbing over his cock shot him well passed cloud nine.

Maybe that was Itachi’s plan all along. Make Kisame so thirsty that literally _anything_ drove him wild.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when a little noise slipped through Itachi’s lips. Itachi’s eyes widened for a second, as if shocked that he made such a noise to begin with, and Kisame grinned.

“What was that, baby? I didn’t quite catch it.”

“Shut up,” he breathed, pushing his hips up. “I’m close.”

“Yeah?” Kisame immediately slowed down, dragging up his skin in slow strokes.

Itachi wrinkled his nose. “Kisame.” So cute.

“Need something?” He drawled, slowing down even further in his languid, lazy strokes. He pushed Itachi’s hand out of the way when he tried to take control.

“ _Kisame_.”

“If you need something, just ask.” He was grinning so wide his eyes were crinkling up in the corner. He let go of Itachi’s dick to keep jerking himself off.

Itachi glared.

“You just got to ask, baby.”

“Touch me,” Itachi murmured, wiggling his hips up. “Kisame.”

“I am touching you.”

“ _Kisame_.”

Kisame’s grin was firmly in place. “I don’t know what to tell you, baby, you aren’t being clear enough for me.”

Itachi sighed sharply. He twisted one hand into Kisame’s hair and tugged a little. Gentle, not enough to hurt, just how Itachi was in everything he did. “Kisame, touch my dick.”

Kisame hummed, leaning down to kiss him again. He obeyed, easily at that, but every time Itachi’s breath caught or his eyebrows pinned together he slowed his hand. Stopped, sometimes.

“ _Kisame_.” It came out as a partial groan, that time, and Itachi’s eyelashes were fluttering too much to form a proper glare.

“Yes, love?” His voice was smug again.

“C’mon.”

“Just tell me what you want,” he murmured, kissing lines up his face.

Itachi’s breaths fluttered a few times. “Make me come.”

Kisame shuddered, but very, very happily complied. Itachi squirmed softly in his arms, one hand digging into his bicep. He pressed his face into Kisame’s chest and came on his own stomach, falling somewhat limp after that, and his hand fell away from Kisame’s dick.

Kisame straightened up, kneeling on either side of Itachi’s thighs. He would have much preferred Itachi to do the favor of jacking him off, but looking down and seeing Itachi naked and lightly flushed and covered in his own cum was _more_ than enough to get Kisame sputtering out, “fuck, Itachi,” and coming onto his stomach.

They spent a few minutes of breathing, Kisame bracing on hand on Itachi’s chest to stay upright. He stared down at him.

“Something on your mind?” Itachi asked, only slightly bashful at his naked state, spread open for Kisame’s eyes to roam.

“Thinkin’ I quite like the sight of you covered in cum.”

Itachi narrowed his eyes to distract from the blush smeared about his cheeks.

“Also thinking that this didn’t make a whole lot of sense to do _after_ the shower.”

Itachi hummed, sitting up a little. “We did not make that big of a mess,” he said lightly, pushing Kisame back gently by the chest so he could close his legs. “Since I’m the…soiled one, could you get a rag from the bathroom? In the bottom drawer to the left of the sink.”

Kisame departed after a quick kiss to the forehead.

Itachi fell back against the bed as he waited. His body was still pleasantly humming. He liked…sex more than he was expecting. It’s not that he had any real experience, so perhaps he shouldn’t have been so predetermined what his opinion would be, but he was still pleasantly surprised.

Of course, physically, Kisame was very conscious of how he was feeling, and touched him in all the right ways. Physically, of course sex was pleasurable.

Even more than that, though, Itachi loved the _implications._ He loved feeling irresistible. He loved feeling like he was something so amazing that Kisame couldn’t keep his hands off him. That there was something about him that Kisame wanted more of.

“You look like you’re having a good time,” Kisame grunted, and the bed dipped down as he settled over him again on his knees.

Itachi smiled a little and opened his eyes, stomach twitching when Kisame wiped the rag over him. “Just thinking happy thoughts.

“Yeah?” Kisame leaned down to kiss him, folding the rag up and tossing it on the night stand. He settled down more fully, pressing Itachi into the mattress. “What types of thoughts.”

Itachi hummed, tracing Kisame’s facial features with his fingers. “Just that I like having sex with you.”

Kisame dropped his head down into the crook of Itachi’s neck and shoulder. “Those are some good fucking thoughts.”

“Would you mind leaving at least an inch of my neck unmauled?” Itachi asked.

“I might,” Kisame grunted back. “Tell me, baby, tell me what you like so much about sex with me.”

Itachi drawled, “And for what reason should I indulge you so?”

“You love me. And I make you feel good. Right, baby? I make you feel good.”

“You make me feel good,” Itachi affirmed, sliding his hands languidly up Kisame’s arms.

He chuckled. “Yeah? Tell me what feels good.”

“Oh my god,” Itachi groaned, shoving Kisame’s face away as he tried to leech onto his neck again, “ _enough_ , Kisame. You’re so—enough with my neck, _Kisame_ —!” He broke off into a fit of giggles as Kisame rolled them over so Itachi was on top, kissing him all over his face and neck. “Kisame!”

“Itachi.” Kisame’s grin was melting around the edges into the makings of a soft smile, and his eyes were brighter than Itachi had ever seen them. He tugged a sheet over Itachi’s ass, since Itachi still wasn’t used to being totally bare to a room yet.

Itachi traced his pointer finger across the tattoos on Kisame’s cheekbone to his nose, poking the tip. “You look happy.”

“I’m so fuckin’ happy, Itachi.”

Itachi’s smile twitched. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“How come?”

Kisame’s eyebrows shot up. “Why? I got the sexiest guy in the world laying on top of me, and I can feel his dick against my hip.”

“Kisame,” Itachi groaned, dropping his head down to Kisame’s shoulder.

“Alright, alright,” Kisame trailed off with a chuckle. “I’m serious.” He nudged Itachi’s face up and kissed his chin. “You make me so happy, baby. Happier than I have ever been my entire life.” He kissed his cheek. “I mean that.”

Itachi leaned forward so he could slide his forearms under Kisame’s neck, stealing another slow kiss. “How convenient,” he murmured, tilting his head. “I was going to say something similar.”

Kisame smiled at him for a few seconds. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I have a question.”

Itachi kissed him a few more times. “Hurry and ask it before I get distracted.”

Kisame hummed, rubbing his hand across the small of Itachi’s back. “Why did you ride me?”

“Pardon?”

“Our first time,” he clarified. “You rode me.”

Itachi raised an eyebrow. “I remember; I was there.”

Kisame grinned. “You were.”

“What exactly is your question?”

“Why did you ride me? I thought you were gonna be more nervous, or shy or something.”

“‘Nervous or shy or something,’” Itachi repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Kisame cracked a lopsided grin. “I mean, yeah. You haven’t always—taken initiative to go farther.” He kissed his chin. “I wasn’t expecting you to climb up on my dick.”

Itachi snorted.

“Are you going to answer my question?”

Itachi sighed, adjusting himself on top of Kisame. “I…chose that position because I had nerves.” He suddenly looked a little bashful. “I did not want to…underperform.”

Kisame’s grin lit up. “Oh, baby, you were far from it.”

Itachi shoved his face away when he tried to kiss him. “Flatterer.”

“I have one more question.”

“Fire,” Itachi said, digging his thumb into Kisame’s mouth.

“You were clean.”

“That was not a question.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” He paused. “Literally.”

“Ew,” Itachi said, wrinkling his nose. “Disgusting.”

“Seriously, though.”

Itachi shrugged a little bashfully. “I don’t really know what there is to explain. Are you asking me how I did it? Because as someone more sexually proficient than me, I assume you already know.”

Kisame waved a hand. “Of course I already know. But like…does that mean that you planned that ahead of time?”

Itachi shook his head. “No, it was spontaneous. I had been practicing preparing myself for some time before.”

Kisame stared, sputtering, “You were preparing to have sex with me for a while?”

“Not a _while_. I was just getting used to it…and I wanted to be ready.” His eyelashes fluttered. “I was waiting for you to tell me that you love me.”

“I knew that for a while!” Kisame exclaimed, mouth falling open.

Itachi smirked. “Then you should have said something a while ago.”

“I hate myself,” Kisame groaned.

Itachi fidgeted, just a little, resting his chin on the top of his hands. “That’s not…all you want from me anymore, is it?”

Kisame’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “What? No, Itachi, baby, no.” He cupped his face with both hands. “I’m just joking.” He squished Itachi’s cheeks, producing a comical expression. “Sweetheart, if you told me you never wanted to have sex with me again it wouldn’t change how I feel about you.”

“So you don’t like my sex that much?” Itachi asked.

“What— _no,_ Itachi, that’s not what I’m saying—” Kisame’s voice was careening off into near panic, so Itachi laughed and went easier on him.

“Kisame, I’m teasing you.”

“Oh.” Kisame let his head sink back into the pillow. “Oh, right. But—seriously, baby, I mean it. If I take the sex talk too far, just stop me, okay?” He ran a hand over Itachi’s hair. “I won’t forgive myself if I hurt you.”

“You’re giving me cavities, I think,” Itachi said softly. “I don’t mind. It’s mostly flattering.”

“In my defense, sex with you feels really, _really_ good.”

Itachi rolled his eyes, shoving Kisame’s face away when he tried to kiss him. “Glad to hear it.”

“Aw, let me kiss you,” Kisame crooned, chasing after him with his lips. He locked his arms tight around Itachi until he got his kiss. “Sweet as sugar.”

“You are so—” Itachi looked for words “—giddy.”

Kisame grinned up at him like a kid on Christmas morning. “You are the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Itachi stared at him while he tried to find anything he could respond to that with. Eventually, he settled on Kisame’s nature and tried for a joke. “You’re only saying that because I touched your dick.”

“I mean, I’m sure it helps.” He caught Itachi’s hand. His fingers were so slender. Piano fingers; Kisame loved them so, so much.

Itachi traced the slanted black ink across Kisame’s cheekbones. “I suppose that means you’re planning to keep me around for a while?”

Kisame’s grin softened into a smile. “You know I’m set on you.”

“Set on me,” Itachi repeated, pursing his lips. “What do you mean by that?”

“Means I’m giving you my all.” He snagged Itachi’s hand, slid their fingers together and kissed his knuckles. “I thought I lost you, baby, I really thought I lost you.” He paused. “One of the scariest fuckin’ feelings I’ve ever felt. Didn’t ever really consider that it would happen, always saw myself in your life.” He thumped his head back against the pillow. “When I thought—man, not single part of me was alright with that. Everything just—nah, nah, everything freaked out.”

“I’m so sorry,” Itachi said quietly. “I am so, so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Itachi,” Kisame replied, smile easy. “You are entirely and fully forgiven.”

Itachi leaned into the palm Kisame pressed to his cheek. “You are so forgiving of my many mistakes.”

“’Course I am.” Kisame kissed his chin.

“How can I ever repay you?” Itachi murmured.

“Well the whole dick touching thing is doing a pretty good job so far.”

“Right, right, of course.”

Kisame’s chuckle was cut off when Itachi swiped his tongue over the swell of Kisame’s bottom lip. “That’s a good start.”

Itachi scooted up Kisame’s body, winding his arms around his neck so he could pull him close and kiss him deep. Kisame firmly cupped his jaw with one hand and ran a calloused hand from Itachi’s ass up the curve to his spine.

The door popped open with a—“Nii-san, there’s someone at the door—”

Itachi yanked back, eyes wide and blinking at the intrusion.

Kisame grinned.

Sasuke glowered. “You couldn’t have waiting until the household even went to bed?”

“Uh,” Kisame started, “have you seen your brother? No, we could not. ‘Sides, I waited nine months already.”

Itachi pinched his arm. He dragged the sheet farther up his back to make them appear a little more decent, sitting up and wrapping it around his waist. “Did you need something, Sasuke?”

He rolled his eyes, sending Kisame one last dry glance. “There’s someone at the door requesting to see you.”

"Who,” Kisame demanded immediately, eyebrows furrowed, propping himself up on one elbow.

“Not Marcus, asshat, calm down. I think it’s the neighbor.”

Itachi pressed a palm to Kisame’s chest, gently shoving him back down. “Let me get dressed, and I’ll be right out.”

“Right,” Sasuke said dryly before he left the room.

Itachi slipped off of the bed—ignoring Kisame’s whistle—and quickly pulled on a clean pair of boxers. After stepping into thin gray sweats and throwing one of Kisame’s sweatshirts over his chest, he turned to find Kisame dressing himself as well. “You don’t need to bother,” Itachi said, “I’ll be quick.”

Kisame flashed him a grin. “You planning on doing more stuff that requires me naked in bed?”

“Who knows,” Itachi quipped.

“Well, I assure you I can get undressed at a moment’s notice. Just give me the word.” His grin was unbelievably big.

Itachi snorted, slipping out of the room and into the hallway. “I can answer the door on my own, you know.”

“Not taking any chances,” Kisame grunted, a serious gleam behind the joking light in his eye.

Itachi raised an eyebrow. “You think Marcus is sending other people to harass me, now?”

“I think I’m not taking any chances.”

Itachi muttered ‘protective’ under his breath and swung the door open.

He was not expecting to find the friendly neighbor holding a large, covered plate.

“Hello!” She said cheerily, only slightly hesitant. “I don’t know if we’ve officially met; my name is Rin, I live two doors down.”

“Hello,” Itachi said slowly, starting a smile. “Good to meet you.”

Her gaze swerved around Itachi, smile flashing when she saw Kisame. She waved. “Hi there! I saw you the other day.”

“I remember,” Kisame replied warmly.

Itachi looked surprised, twisting around to question Kisame with his eyes.

“When I dropped off food for you,” he clarified as he snaked an arm to wrap around Itachi’s waist.

“Ah.” Itachi turned back towards the guest.

“Ah, well, anyways—!” Rin held out the plate toward them. “I was making brownies, and I thought I would bake you guys a pan.”

Itachi leaned back against Kisame’s chest. “You made us brownies?”

“Yeah!” Her smile really was sweet. “I was already baking a bunch, so it wasn’t any trouble at all.”

Itachi hesitantly accepted the plate. “And it’s just your habit to bake brownies for neighbors you have never met?”

Kisame snorted. “Don’t be rude, Itachi.”

“I’m not—I didn’t mean to be rude,” Itachi muttered, almost sulky.

“It’s fine.” Rin folded her hands in front of her. “I know it’s not necessarily—customary, it just…sounded like maybe you guys could use a little sweetness.” She played nervously with her ring finger.

“…Sounded?” Itachi said weakly. “You heard us fighting?”

“Well—I don’t want you to think that I was eaves dropping or anything. Things just seemed tense, and I—brownies make everything better!” She smiled hopefully.

“You heared us fighting,” Itachi repeated, staring at the plate.

“It’s okay, I didn’t hear anything specific!”

Kisame started laughing.

Itachi swirled around, eyes bugging. “Do not laugh! She heard us fighting!”

“We weren’t _fighting_ ,” Kisame scoffed.

“We absolutely _were_ fighting!”

“Well _now_ we are.”

Itachi tightened his fingers around the edges of the plate, eyes squeezed shut. “I’m…terribly sorry you were caught up in our personal problems,” he began, turning back towards Rin. “You are very sweet and considerate for making us dessert.”

“Any time!” She replied brightly. “I hope you enjoy them.”

“I’ll return the plate to you shortly,” Itachi promised as Rin retreated down the hallway to her room.

Kisame closed the door behind Itachi. “What a nice woman. Shame you haven’t made her acquaintance before.”

Itachi whirled around. “Kisame!”

“What?” Kisame leaned against the counter.

Itachi floundered, like he expected Kisame to know what he was thinking.

“What?” Kisame repeated, a laugh on the edges of his voice. “Are you upset she heard us today?”

“I’m _mortified_!”

Kisame snorted, taking the brownie plate from Itachi and walking into the kitchen. “What’s the big deal?”

“You don’t care that she heard all of that?”

“I mean…” Kisame started, peeling the saran wrap, “it’s not the end of the world.”

“It was private,” Itachi insisted.

Kisame took a giant bite out of a brownie.

“You are not listening to me.”

Kisame tried to say something, but a chunk of chocolate fell out of his mouth, and he ended up laughing himself silly and holding onto the counter.

It wasn’t till he saw Itachi stalk towards the hallway that he sobered.

“Baby,” he called after him, swallowing the gooey chocolate in his mouth. “Baby, c’mon, don’t be mad.” He grabbed at his hand.

Itachi glared, avoiding his eyes.

“Why are you so upset?”

Itachi let out a sharp breath and tugged his hand free. “That was _our_ business, Kisame. I don’t want people knowing our intimacies.”

“She doesn’t!”

Itachi rolled his eyes.

“Okay, well—is it _my_ fault?” Kisame asked, grabbing his wrist again and pulling him so he turned around. “I didn’t invite her out.”

Itachi’s steely gaze focused on the floor.

“Well?”

“I just,” Itachi muttered, “I don’t like it when people know private things about me. Our relationship is not for the neighbors to pick apart.”

Kisame stared at him for a few seconds. “You’re a private person, I get that.”

Itachi huffed quietly.

“If it will make you feel better, these brownies are really fucking good. I’d say it’s worth it.” He held his half eaten one out towards Itachi. “C’mon, try some.” Itachi did not respond, so Kisame nudged his foot with his own. “Would you like it better if I let you eat it out of my mouth?”

Itachi’s eyes flicked up to send him a soft glare.

Kisame cracked a grin. “C’mon, baby. It’s kind of funny.”

“In no way is it funny.”

“It’s a _little_ funny.”

Itachi took the brownie from his hand and took a bite.

“Good, right?” Kisame asked.

“…pretty good.”

“Oh, come _on_ , Itachi. Smile. The neighbor hearing us argue is not the end of the world. She doesn’t even know what it was about.”

Itachi chewed slowly, taking his time to warm up. “…I guess it’s a little funny.” He pursed his lips. “If you squint.”

“That’s the spirit.” Kisame held the rest of the brownie out for him. While Itachi chewed, he set the plate out on top of the breadbox, and then pushed Itachi gently by the shoulders back into the bedroom. “Ready for bed?”

Itachi hummed, digging through his drawer for his hairbrush.

“You need a new one of those,” Kisame grunted, eyeing the multiple holes where the bristles were missing.

Itachi rolled his eyes up. “It works just fine,” he insisted, catching his hair with his fingers and pulling it over his shoulder.  He ran through the ends, noting Kisame wince at the ripping sounds. He paused and held the hairbrush out. “Would you like to do it?”

“Uh— _yes_.”

Once they got Itachi’s hair brushed soft and smooth and braised into two plaits, Kisame pulled the stray hair out of the bristles and threw them away in the black trashcan under Itachi’s cluttered desk. When he turned around, Itachi was bending over for something on the floor, and Kisame whistled obnoxiously loudly.

“Enough,” Itachi chided coyly, looking over his shoulder.

“You look hot as hell with two braids.”

“Thank you,” he replied politely, tugging on one of them. “They are you’re handywork.”

Kisame grinned. “Will you be uncomfortable if I sleep in just boxers?” He asked, rubbing a hand across his abs.

Itachi looked over his shoulder, gaze lingering on Kisame’s sculpted stomach. “Something might get uncomfortable eventually.”

Kisame grinned wickedly, pulling his shirt off and sliding his hand down his chest. “Yeah? You think I’m hot or something?”

Itachi rolled his eyes, lips quirked up. “No, not at _all_. I definitely don’t think anything of your chest, or stomach or arms….” His eyes flamed a little as he traced Kisame’s muscles as he talked about them. He got to Kisame’s hip bones, bit the inside of his bottom lip, eyed the V that sunk into Kisame’s sweatpants. “Or your dick.”

Itachi found himself pressed up tight against the wall, Kisame’s thigh nudging his legs apart just a little.

“Is that so? If if didn’t know better, I’d say you had a crush on me, Itachi.”

“A crush?” Itachi’s eyes gleamed. “Good thing you know better. You aren’t really my type.”

“ _Hey_.”

“Just jokes, Kisame,” Itachi assured, “just jokes.”

Kisame kissed his forehead. “Tease.”

“I’ve never.”

Kisame groaned. “You do nothing but torture me. I can’t believe I’m still going to spoil you.”

“And here I thought you’ve already spoiled me once tonight.”

Kisame paused, eye flicking back and forth. “If you’re asking for a round two, I’m more than happy to indulge you.”

Itachi snorted. “Because it would take you _so_ much convincing.”

Teeth brushed, faces washed, and Kisame’s jewelry placed carefully on Itachi’s night stand, the two settled quietly into a nighttime routine. It wasn’t as awkward as Itachi had though it would be, trying to dance around each other in a cramped room and bathroom. Kisame was _large_ , but he never complained, and always took the opportunity to shove up against Itachi if it presented itself to him.

Kisame flicked the lights off and coaxed Itachi to lie down on his stomach.

“What are you doing?” Itachi asked, tucking a pillow under his chin.

“I told you I was going to work on your back again,” he said, bending Itachi’s arms and pushing them up.

“Is this what you meant by spoiling me?”

“Indeed,” Kisame said. “You liked it the last time.”

Itachi hummed. “I did.”

He started with the tops of Itachi’s shoulders, drumming his fingers down into the tense muscle, feeling it chorded under his skin. Itachi sucked in a sharp breath, immediately tensing up, so Kisame softened his hold. He kneaded his shoulders until they were warm under his touch before moving down Itachi’s spine. He pressed his thumbs against each bump of Itachi’s vertebrae, pressing gently, and then worked the muscles roping across his back on either side of his spine.

Itachi let out a soft noise.

Kisame ran his hands up and down Itachi’s back, shifting, licking his lips. He pressed both thumbs into the dimples above Itachi’s ass, and—slipped just his fingertips into Itachi’s sleep pants, and slowly tugged them down of the soft swell of his skin. He left the boxers on, since he didn’t want to push it. Itachi would take his clothes off if he wanted.

“Kisame,” Itachi murmured, turning his head to the side. “What are you doing?”

“Booty rubs,” Kisame replied, splaying his fingers.

Itachi wiggled just a little. “Excuses.”

“Shh,” Kisame shushed. “Tell me to stop if you get uncomfortable,” he murmured, pushing his hands against his flesh, squeezing two big handfuls. He dug his thumbs into the muscles starting at the bottom, rolling circles with his fingers and pushing up.

No, he wasn’t dragging it out to have fun.

(Yes, he was).

He kneaded the muscles towards the top of his ass, encouraged when Itachi let out a satisfied breath.

“Feel good, baby?”

Itachi nodded into the pillow.

“Bet you didn’t even know the muscles in your ass would feel good to be massaged.” Kisame spread his fingers out again, squeezing as much as he could, rubbing the flat of his palm in soothing circles. Itachi sighed again, nuzzling the pillow. “Are you getting sleepy?” He asked, digging his thumbs in, licking his lips.

“Little. Feels good.”

Kisame (reluctantly) pulled Itachi’s pants back up and shifted his hands back up to Itachi’s back, pressing on both sides of his spine, slowly working back up to his shoulders.

“You are very good at this,” Itachi murmured.

“Maybe I was a therapist in another life,” he said softly.

“Mm.” Itachi shifted his arms up farther. “Do you love me in this other life of yours?”

“I love you in every life there could be,” Kisame answered easily. “In this one…hm. In this one, I’m a PT, and you’re….” he paused, hands stilling as he thought. “You’re a kindergarten teacher.”

“A kindergarten teacher?” Itachi questioned quietly, smile curling onto his face. “Why’s that?”

“You’ve told me about how much you like kids. I can see you just—covered in them, like a tree that bears five year olds.”

Itachi snorted.

“You would be a good kiddie teacher,” Kisame insisted, gentle, kneading his thumbs carefully against a bad knot nestled against the ridge of Itachi’s right shoulder blade.

“How did we meet?”

“I picked up Thalia from school all the time.”

“Thalia,” Itachi repeated sweetly. “Does Thalia like me?”

“So much,” Kisame said with a chuckle. “She talked about you so much. I would take her for ice cream on the car rides home and she would go on and on. Eventually, I just had to meet you.”

Itachi adjusted his head on the pillow, uncontrollable smile bunching his cheeks up. “What was the first thing you liked about me?”

“Your smile. You smile all the time in this life, baby; you’re so happy.”

Itachi paused, pushing himself up on his elbows a bit and looking over his shoulder. “I’m happy in this life, too, you know.”

Kisame’s hands stilled on his shoulders. “Right, yeah. Of course.”

Itachi gave a very soft sound of appreciation, turning around onto his back and tugging Kisame to kiss him. “Thank you for the attention, my dear.”

“Anytime. I always wanna touch on you.”

“I know.” Another kiss. “I wouldn’t trade this life for a different one, Kisame. I’m very happy with the way things have turned out.”

“Even with all the bullshit mixed in?”

“Even with the hang-ups,” Itachi rephrased, stroking Kisame’s cheek. “I’m happy. And I’m happy with my life, and I’m happy with my…lover.” He couldn’t get the word out without smiling. “I’m not going to let things keep slipping out of my grasp. I mean it.”

Kisame rolled to the side and tucked Itachi against his chest, nosing against his hair. “Good plan. I’ll do my part, too; I’ll jack you off whenever you want.”

Itachi snorted, surprised, and pinched the side of his arm. “Every _time_ , Kisame, you pull that same trick.”

He snickered. “It’s just too fun.” He kissed his hair. “You know you can tell me to stop if I go overboard.”

Itachi sighed, adjusting himself, sinking into an even deeper comfort. “I know. Somehow, I just find it endearing after all this time.”

“Lucky me.”

“Lucky you,” Itachi mouthed against Itachi’s skin.

After a few seconds, Kisame repeated ‘lucky me’ a few times, pressing Itachi just a touch closer each time.

They settled in silence, which was fine. Silence was comfortable, silence was calming.

And there really wasn’t anything to be scared of.

\--

Is there anything better than waking up warm and rested?

Kisame didn’t think there was, nuzzling into the side of Itachi’s neck. There was nothing more conflicting than wanting to watch Itachi’s sleeping face and talk to him at the same time, either. Eventually Kisame decided to kiss on Itachi’s face and neck as much as he wanted, and if it did wake Itachi up, so be it.

It took surprisingly long for Itachi to actually start to rouse, and when he did, it was a cute pinch of his nose and a little squeak in the back of his throat. He jerkily stretched one hand out to the side, jabbing Kisame in the ribs.

“’Same?” He asked sleepily.

“Who else,” Kisame replied gruffly, fingers skimming Itachi’s stomach.

Itachi hummed, smiling a little, and curled his arms up so his hand could touch Kisame’s face, fingers drumming against his cheekbone. “How did you sleep?”

“Good.”

“ _Well_ ,” Itachi corrected.

“That too.”

“Mm,” Itachi moaned out loud, throwing himself over Kisame’s torso and burying Kisame’s face into his neck. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and hooked his leg over Kisame’s hip. “I love you.”

Kisame chuckled, breathing in deep and nuzzling Itachi’s neck. “Love you so—” a kiss, “—so—” another kiss, “—damn much.”

Itachi let out a contented sigh, pressing his cheek to the top of Kisame’s head. “Mm, I’m sorry,” Itachi murmured sleepily into Kisame’s hair.

“What are you apologizing for?” Kisame grunted.

“I was supposed to get up early and make you breakfast.” He wiggled a little. “But you’re far too warm and comfy, so I couldn’t get out of bed.”

“Ah, so my devious plan worked,” Kisame chuckled. “I guess you’re stuck here forever.”

“This is my house,” Itachi sleep-slurred, “ _you’re_ the one who’s stuck here forever, in that case.”

Kisame rubbed a relaxed hand up and down Itachi’s back. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

They couldn’t convince themselves to get out of bed, and Itachi melted over Kisame’s body, fitting against him like kinetic sand. Eventually, Itachi groaned again, pushing himself up on one arm. He kissed Kisame’s forehead once.

“What do you want for breakfast.”

“You.”

He blinked slowly. “I’ll make eggs, then.”

Kisame slid one hand onto Itachi’s ass, squeezing once. “Wearing nothing but an apron?”

“Sasuke would not appreciate that,” Itachi said, rolling off of him and stretching. He sat up, rubbing the side of his face. “When do you need to leave for work?”

Kisame groaned, turning over to check his phone. “Hour.”

“Mm. I’ll get started, then.”

Sasuke was already awake with a cup of coffee when Itachi emerged from the room. He was leaning against the kitchen table, rolling an apple across the surface.

“Rise and shine,” he murmured into his mug. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

Itachi rolled his eyes. “Yes, dear brother. We aren’t _animals_.”

“Bet he fucks like one.”

Itachi threw a spatula at him.

Kisame hopped in the shower to rinse off real quick before work. Naruto had apparently left already, since he had an absurdly early class at seven. Itachi whisked a few eggs in a measuring cup, sprinkling in garlic salt and pepper. Sasuke made himself useful and chopped up peppers, onions, tomatoes and spinach before turning on the rice maker. The rice was mixed with the vegetables and frying away nicely in the pan when Kisame got out of the shower.

“Smells good, baby,” he said, toweling his hair dry.

“Thank you,” Itachi responded, pouring a glob of ketchup into the rice and stirring it around.

Kisame kissed the top of his head. “How can I help?”

Itachi pointed at the cabinet. “Can you get me some shoyu?”

Kisame hesitated. “Pardon?”

“Soy sauce.” He looked over with a smile. “Sorry.”

“It’s all good,” Kisame replied good-naturedly. “I should starting picking up on some Japanese.”

“By no means do I expect that.” He sprinkled a little soy sauce on the rice. “Could you get me small bowl from the cupboard over there?”

“Absolutely.”

“And then could you wash your hands and help me mold the rice?”

Kisame tilted his head. “What is it that we’re making?”

“Omurice.”

“Omurice,” Kisame repeated with a chuckle, soaping up his hands. “And what’s that?”

“Japanese rice-stuffed omelet,” Itachi replied. “I would have made something fancier, but I was not expecting company.” He paused. “I have no kale for you.”

Kisame laughed. “I don’t need kale to function, babe.”

“But you like it.” Itachi scooped up rice with a spoon and began to pack it into the oval-shaped bowl. “I’ll buy some things for you after work tomorrow.”

“You’re too much,” Kisame chuckled.

Itachi finished making the omelets quickly, calling Sasuke back out from his room to eat with them.

Itachi was acting unbelievably bright when Sasuke took a seat with them.

“You’re awfully happy,” he commented, poking at his omelet with chopsticks.

Itachi smiled. “I like eating meals together. It feels like a family.”

Both Kisame’s and Sasuke’s faces softened at that.

Kisame was pleasantly shocked by how good the food was. “You’ve gotten a lot better at cooking, baby, I mean it.”

And that’s all it took to keep Itachi beaming through the rest of breakfast. Kisame only made one sexual comment about the use of the bed, and Sasuke only kicked Kisame under the table twice.

The morning didn’t sour until Itachi checked his phone at the end of breakfast.

“Babe, back me up on this,” Kisame chuckled, running water over the plate. “Sasuke thinks that—” when he looked over, he saw Itachi absolutely shut down, fiddling with his phone. “Babe?”

Itachi stared at the table. “Yeah?”

Kisame set the plate down. “What’s the matter?”

Itachi glanced back at his phone. “It’s….” He sighed. “I don’t know. I got a bunch of emails from a junk address.”

Kisame grunted, leaving the sink to sit next to him. “Yeah? Fucker,” he muttered. “What did he send.”

Itachi tapped on one email, waiting for it to load.

It opened, and his eyes widened and he slammed the phone on the table.

Kisame hissed. He picked the phone back up, grimacing as he flicked through Itachi’s emails. Itachi tucked himself somberly against the chair, staring at the table top.

“What is it?” Sasuke asked, leaning across the table towards Kisame. “Is it Marcus?”

“Yeah,” Kisame grunted. “Just a bunch of—just a bunch of gore.”

“Of _what?!”_

Kisame sighed, sharp, and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m guessing— _yeah_ , it’s Marcus.”

“That stupid _fucker_!” Sasuke snarled. “I’m going to kill him.”

“It’s okay,” Itachi said softly. “It’s just a picture.”

“Picture _s_ ,” Sasuke corrected, acid dripping from him.

Kisame leaned back in his chair. “Why would he suddenly send something vicious, though?” He looked to Itachi. “You said he’s been sending you gifts.”

Itachi nodded. “Besides the overall—situation being uncomfortable, to say the least, he hasn’t done anything openly malicious.”

“So what happened that he would switch to something so drastic?” Kisame asked.

“I don’t know _Agent Gideon_ ,” Sasuke snarked. “Is there any chance he heard the two of you yesterday?”

“The neighbor did,” Itachi said with just a hint of a joke to his voice. “I guess anything is possible.”

Kisame rolled his eyes. “While I doubt he heard anything, do you think he could have been watching?”

Itachi looked into his eyes. “And when he saw you come over, he knew he lost.”

Kisame twisted his lips to the side, looking at the table in solemn thought.

Sasuke looked between them. “Care to inform me on what the fuck is going on?”

Itachi let out a breath. “Marcus is smart, and he knows me. He’s been pulling his stunts these past couple weeks to mess with my mind in hopes that I would separate myself from Kisame permanently.”

“And you didn’t,” Sasuke surmised, “so now he’s angry.”

“That’s what I’m guessing, at least,” Itachi said with a one-shouldered shrug. The room became tense, everything sinking in amongst the three at the table. Itachi’s face suddenly crumpled, and he started shaking his head. “I can’t do this,” he said.

“Babe?” Kisame asked softly, worriedly leaning forward.

“I can’t just let things go on like this. He can’t do this to me anymore. Is he really going to harass me for as long as I’m with you?” Itachi’s eyes were edging into puppy-dog territory when he reached forward for Kisame’s hand. “Am I supposed to deal with this for the rest of my life?”

Kisame cracked a grin. “Aw, baby, you tryna have me for the rest of your life?”

Sasuke smacked him upside the back of his head. “Can you be serious?”

“I’m damn serious! I wanna talk about this.”

Itachi sighed, leaning forward into the table and rubbing his face with both hands.

Kisame paused, face screwing up as he hesitated, one hand resting on Itachi’s back. “Hey, Itachi, I’m sorry. I’ll stop joking, okay, baby?”

“No,” Itachi murmured, shaking his head. He pulled himself up a little straighter to meet Kisame’s gaze. “It’s not you, you’re not doing anything wrong.” He leaned forward to kiss Kisame’s broad nose. “You know I like it when you lighten the mood.”

Kisame rubbed a soothing hand on his arm. “What can I do?”

Itachi sighed. “What can we do….” He let silence settle amongst them for a few minutes, thinking through his dread. “Well…we have to stop him.”

“Stop him?” Sasuke asked incredulously.

“He clearly isn’t planning on doing it anytime soon, so….”

Sasuke looked a little dumbfounded. “Isn’t that, just, a little too obvious?”

“It’s the only thing to do,” Kisame said. He rubbed a hand over his forehead. He listened to the clock tick for a few seconds, then said, “The only two options are that he cuts it out himself, or we make him cut it out.”

“Oh, yes, what a simple solution,” Sasuke drawled.

“Could you cut the sarcasm in half or so?” Kisame grimaced. “You know I’m on your side, right? I’m here to protect Itachi.”

Sasuke opened his mouth to let out another snarky comment; he snapped his mouth shut. “Right, I know, I just—” He glared at the wall behind Kisame’s head. “What can we _do_.”

“Well,” Kisame started, “we can file the restraining order at the police station this afternoon or tomorrow.”

“That wont be good enough,” Sasuke argued, fingers tightening on the edge of the desk.

“He’s not going to back down if the police get involved?” Kisame crossed his arms over his chest. “You think he would really risk losing his job or going to jail just to send Itachi gross emails?”

Sasuke waved an arm in the air. “Hello? Did Itachi not tell you what went on when they dated?”

Kisame leaned forward, trying to be diplomatic. “Sasuke, I’m not saying—”

“I know what to do,” Itachi interrupted, calm, hands resting against each other in his lap.

Kisame turned his head to look at him. Itachi didn’t look frazzled at all, not a single long black hair out of place. His eyes were clear and calm—a bit the opposite of both Kisame and Sasuke. Kisame was reluctant when he asked, “And what would that be?”

“Shikamaru,” Itachi said without explanation.

“Shikamaru,” Sasuke repeated dubiously.

Itachi looked up at him. “He’s still...a hacker, right?”

“A what?” Kisame asked, arching an eyebrow.

“He works for virus protection software companies and computer security companies,” Sasuke explained, eyes trained on his brother. “He’s pretty talented with a keyboard. What does he have to do with anything, Itachi?”

“Can you have him trace where these emails came from?”

“Woah,” Kisame started, a mix of shock and worry. “What are you suggesting.”

“ _Sasuke_. Can he?”

Sasuke looked subdued. “I—yeah, of course he can, he’s the best of the best. But, Itachi….”

Itachi yanked nervously on his hair. “I know that you guys aren’t keen about the idea of me interacting with him, okay, but—I can’t let this go on forever and hope that he just _stops_ , because he isn’t going to. I need to talk to him.”

“And you think that’s going to fix anything?”

“Yes.”

“But—”

“Do you think that Marcus isn’t an absolute coward?” Itachi asked, voice raising a little. “He’s stalking me and trying to scare me. He doesn’t _want_ confrontation.” He huffed. “I didn’t stand up to him once our entire relationship, and that’s why he got away with what he did. If I show him now that I’m not scared of him, he’ll have no reason to mess with me anymore.”

Kisame splayed on hand on the table. “In theory, that makes sense, but—what if it doesn’t work?”

Itachi shrugged. “Then we try plan B. It’s worth a shot, though, and I’m really going to insist that I try this.”

“I don’t like it,” Sasuke said, blatant, frowning.

“I don’t really, either,” Kisame added.

Itachi folded his hands sincerely. “Please trust me on this.” He looked to Kisame. “You can come along.”

Kisame lifted both his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Yes, that’s fine. And that way, if anything does happen, you’re there to take care of me.” He glanced at Sasuke. “Okay?”

Sasuke grumbled a few times. “I still don’t like it,” he restated, “but I guess. Whatever.”

“I’m not going to let a _damn_ thing happen to Itachi,” Kisame promised.

Sasuke pursed his lips, mulling things over. His foot tapped idly on the floor. “What’s the actual plan, then?”

Itachi cleared his throat. “Have Shikamaru see if he can track where the emails were sent from. Once I know where he is…I’ll stop by.”

Sasuke groaned and flopped back in his chair. “That idea sounds horrible.”

“I really need you to trust me.”

“I trust you, I just don’t want him anywhere _near_ you.”

“Kisame will be with me the whole time. He’s not going to let anything happen.”

Sasuke rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling. “What are you going a talk to him about?”

“I don’t know that yet, Little Brother.”

He looked at Kisame. “You’re really not going to try to talk him out of this with me?”

Kisame held his hands up in surrender. “I’ve gotta take Itachi’s side on this one.” He glanced nervously at the clock. “I’ve also gotta start for work pretty soon.”

“Mm,” Itachi murmured, getting up from the table and grabbing the plates. “We can finish this conversation later.”

“Convenient,” Sasuke muttered.

Itachi whirled around. “School!”

“Suigetsu isn’t even here yet!”

“Then go brush your teeth and get ready for him,” Itachi quipped, brushing food scraps off into the compost.

Itachi finished taking care of the kitchen, eyeing the clock to make sure he would have enough time to get ready for his first student. He eventually heard a horn blaring outside, which made him roll his eyes and call Sasuke to quickly go outside.

Kisame came out a few minutes later. He wrapped his arms tight around Itachi’s waste, giving him a squeeze. “I’ll see you tonight,” he murmured after a kiss to Itachi’s cheek.

“You really don’t need to stay here,” Itachi said, turning around in Kisame’s arms. “I’ll be fine.”

Kisame paused. “I know that. I just really wanted another reason to sleep with you.”

“Sleep with me, or _sleep_ with me?”

“I want to fuck you,” Kisame replied, annunciating each syllable.

Itachi shoved his face away, smiling. “I can’t stand you.”

“That’s okay, I’ll take you on your knees.”

Itachi’s jaw nearly dropped. “Excuse me?”

Kisame snickered, stealing a kiss. “I love you, baby.”

Itachi swatted at his face. “Don’t kiss me with your dirty mouth.” He didn’t resist, though, when Kisame yanked him in tight against his body. “I can’t believe you can say things like that so blasé.”

Kisame grinned. “I said I _love you_. Don’t leave me hanging.”

Itachi swayed a little and tugged on Kisame’s belt straps. “I love you, too,” he sighed. “Drive safely.”

“Thank you.” Kisame kissed him again. “I’ll have dinner on the table when you get home.”

“Oh?” Itachi smirked a little. “What are you making?”

“I was just gonna sit on the kitchen table naked.”

Itachi raised a dubious eyebrow. “And what will my brother be eating?”

Faltering, Kisame started to laugh. “Oh, shit, I didn’t think about that.”

“You didn’t think about my brother? I’m horribly hurt.”

“Fine. I’ll get creative then.” He groaned a little, hugging Itachi fully and giving him a kiss on the forehead. “As much as I would love to stay here and do this all day….”

“You have to go make art,” Itachi filled in, face happy. “Have a good day.”

“You too.” Kisame paused as he pulled away. “You sure you good about the whole…Marcus thing?”

Itachi nodded, moving away from the sink to store the dishes in the cabinet. “I’m quite sure. I feel calmer than I have felt in a long time.”

Kisame nodded. “Okay. That’s what matters most.”

Itachi smiled. “I’m entirely sure everything is going to be alright, Kisame.”

Kisame tossed a grin over his shoulder as he walked out the door. “I’m gonna make it better than alright. That’s a promise.”

\--

The second time Kisame had Itachi, it went much more ‘according to plan’ for him. He had thought, for the amount of times he had thought about sex with Itachi, that he would have been much more prepared. He had never been so _in love_ though, and the emotional impact of the intimacy hit him like a ton of bricks their first time. It knocked him off his game.

Their second time, though, their second time Kisame drew it out, did things right. They were at Kisame’s place, and after several minutes of making out on the couch, and then several more minutes of shoving hands under clothes and grasping at skin like heated teenagers, Itachi stumbled through an admittance that he’d cleaned himself, if Kisame wanted to do more than just touch.

And, well, of course he did.

He took Itachi up into his room, running his hands across his back and kissing on his neck the whole way. He got Itachi onto his bed, laid him down gently, and slowly began tugging off his clothes. Kissed lines up his legs and stomach until Itachi got fidgety. He stripped himself off his own clothes until they were both down to their underwear and crawled on top of Itachi, kissing his way up from Itachi’s navel to his lips.

He settled himself comfortably on top of him, fitting their hips together so he could slowly grind down, only firm enough to get Itachi to push his hips up slightly, eyes slipping shut.

“Feel good?” Kisame grunted quietly, moving rhythmically, eyes trained on Itachi’s face, drinking in every detail and little reaction.

“Yes,” Itachi breathed, hands sliding up and down the thick of Kisame’s arms.

Kisame let his head fall forward, kissing Itachi’s cheek.

He got Itachi relaxed in every area but one before fishing the lube out of the drawer. He pushed Itachi up the bed, settling him on a soft blanket and propping him up with pillows. He started the kissing back up as he fingered him, stretching him slowly and brushing against his prostate just enough to keep him feeling good.

“’Same,” Itachi moaned softly, fingers inching down his stomach to his cock.

“Baby,” he groaned in between wet kisses. “Mm, baby, you know how gorgeous you are? I still can’t believe you’re mine.”

“Ridiculous,” Itachi muttered, fingers flexing on Kisame’s chest. “Kisame,” he breathed. He reached up and wrapped his arms around Kisame’s neck. “I love you,” he murmured.

Kisame smacked one last kiss on his lips before groping his hands across the blanket next to him for the tube of lube again.

He only spent a small amount of time pushing Itachi’s legs back to see how far they would go back, whistling lowly that Itachi, oh you’re so flexible, oh god, Itachi.

He slotted into him slow, one arm braced next to Itachi’s, fingers twisted together. Itachi’s neck arched back into a smooth, pale stretch as Kisame slid in the last inch he could fit from the angle.

“Fuck, baby, Itachi. You good?”

Itachi nodded, breath fluttering, fingers squeezing around Kisame’s. “Give me—just a moment.”

“Sure, baby, sure, of course.” He licked his lips, squeezing his eyes shut.

Itachi traced rhythmic patterns against Kisame’s chest with his finger tips for several few seconds before his hips nudged a little, and, breathily, he said, “Go on, ‘Same. You can move.”

He started slow, of course, just gentle rocking and stuttering breathing, still overwhelmed by the feeling of actually being _inside_ him. He let Itachi get used to it for a few minutes; Itachi’s eyes were drooped almost all the way closed, and his lips were parted enough that Kisame could hear every breath he took. He watched him carefully, every facial expression he made and every noise he held back. Once Itachi got into it, he squared his hips and bent over so that their chests brushed—and he could feel Itachi’s cock against his stomach—and continued to thrust, still gentle. Itachi wound both of his arms around Kisame’s neck and pulled him close. He bent his legs up, resting his heels on Kisame’s ass. He could feel it flex as he rolled his hips.

Kisame sucked on Itachi’s bottom lip for a few seconds. Itachi whined—throaty, lusty, coming from a place of pleasure and a need for more—and Kisame kissed him proper, a little wet and a little desperate.

Kisame found himself groaning, either into Itachi’s mouth or against his lips, or into the skin of his neck. Itachi was—hot around him, so fucking _hot_ , and he was tight, and his skin was soft and warm, and it was _him_ and Kisame _loved_ him and—

“Itachi,” he groaned, hips hitting forward a little harder, a little faster. “Fuck, Itachi, baby, baby, baby,” he muttered off, kissing sloppily at Itachi’s jaw.

Itachi, who had not removed his arms from their vice around Kisame’s neck, tried to tug him closer. He found the clarity to kiss and nuzzle at Kisame’s face. “K’sme,” he slurred, sliding one hand up into his hair and tugging. “Touch me.”

“Ah, yeah, yeah,” Kisame grunted. He paused, readjusted one of Itachi’s legs a little higher so he could try to lift himself up. He tried to shove a hand in between them, but the vice Itachi had around his shoulders didn’t allow for any extra room between them. He chuckled. “Baby, you gotta give me a little room.”

Itachi pouted cutely, tightening his hold and stealing another kiss. “No. Stay close.”

“I’m pretty damn close, baby.” He licked at his lips. “I’m almost six inches up your ass.”

“Six inches,” Itachi muttered, head tilting back, fingers tightening in his hair and tugging. “Is that the magic number.”

Kisame grinned, eyes lighting up. “Nah, baby, I’m a just a little _over_ six. I just can’t get it all in from this angle.” He bit Itachi’s lip until he opened his mouth, stroked his tongue against Itachi’s. “If you want to take the whole dick you gotta let me fuck you from behind.”

Itachi groaned. “Just touch me, baby.”

“ _Baby_?” Kisame grinned wider. “You’ve never called me that before.”

Itachi weakly slapped at his arm.

Kisame leaned back down to kiss him and snaked a hand between them to grab onto Itachi’s dick. He stroked in time with his thrusts—something that was a lot fuckin’ harder than it seemed in theory. “Like that?”

Itachi arched his hips, head falling to the side.

Kisame’s thrusting sped up, feeling too much to process, trying to stroke Itachi off in time with the rocking of his hips. He was spurred on when Itachi started moaning softly, broken and unintended, fingers still grasping greedily at his skin. Kisame smacked kisses across his face. Sucked on his bottom lip when Itachi tilted his head back.

“Fuck, fuck, baby, Itachi, I’m—” Kisame grinded his head into the pillow. “Love you, baby, love you love you—” He gripped Itachi harder, tugging rough enough—maybe a little too rough (maybe just rough enough)—that Itachi gasped a little and arched up under him. Kisame felt something splatter against his hand; Itachi subsequently went almost entirely limp under him.

Kisame didn’t last too much longer, burning hotter and hotter until he found himself a proper mess, groaning Itachi’s name and jerking his hips sloppily into him.

He collapsed on top of him, smothering him into the mattress, shuddering and gripping onto him to ground himself. Itachi ran a hand slowly up Kisame’s back to his hair. He ran his fingers through it, gentle, loving.

“Sorry,” Kisame muttered, still breathless.

“…for what, exactly?”

“I’m probably crushing you, huh?”

Itachi nuzzled into his hair. “Don’t worry; I said I wanted you close.”

Kisame let his breathing even out, placing kisses to literally any stretch of Itachi’s skin he could reach, fingers squeezing both his arms. He rolled to the side—just a smidgen, so that Itachi was still halfway trapped under him, and slid a hand up to grasp at his neck. He brushed his thumb against the soft skin stretches over a chord of his muscle. “You good?” He asked. He nudged his nose forward to bump against Itachi’s.

Itachi hummed. “I’d say I’m a little better than good.” His legs lolled to the side, spreading himself more open than he was normally comfortable. The large, dark hand caressing his stomach made him feel safe, though, and the after-orgasm hum relaxed his body.

“I’m serious,” Kisame grunted, “let me know if I get carried away.”

“You’re almost too considerate,” Itachi quipped, looking over.

“I just kind of lose my mind,” Kisame muttered into Itachi’s skin, “when I actually get my dick on your skin.”

“That so.” Itachi arched an eyebrow.

“So,” Kisame confirmed. “My brain just—fucks off.”

“’Cuz your dick steals all the blood.”

Kisame grinned. “You’re getting better at your banter, baby.”

“I guess I learned from the best.”

“The best?” Kisame crawled over him a few inches more. “I’m the best, huh? The best at what?”

Itachi rolled his eyes. “The best at getting a big head every time I compliment you.”

Kisame squeezed Itachi right above his hip, another smart comment on the edge of his tongue, but was interrupted when Itachi yipped.

“That tickles,” he said, catching Kisame’s wrist. “Careful.”

Kisame’s eyes gleamed mischievous. “It what now?” He squeezed again, and Itachi’s leg jerked.

“Kisame—!” Itachi tried to warn, but it was too late, and Kisame’s fingers were poking into the soft flesh of his sides. “ _Kisame—!_ ” He busted up into a fit of giggles, squirming and jerking underneath Kisame’s larger frame.

Kisame grinned, pinning him down and tickling the life out of him. He snorted out a harsh laugh when Itachi kneed into his hip, tossing his head to the side and gasping.

“I can’t breathe, I can’t—” He managed to get out of Kisame’s grasp, slipping to the side and squirming out from underneath him. He grabbed a pillow in retaliation and slammed it into Kisame’s face, scrambling on top of Kisame and straddling his hips. He pressed the pillow down until _Kisame_ couldn’t breathe. “Rude!” He gasped, still recovering from his giggles.

Kisame tried to push the pillow up and off of his face, laughing uncontrollably.

Itachi pressed it down harder, only lifting it back up to slam it down again several times.

“Baby,” Kisame laughed as he tried to catch Itachi’s hands. “ _Baby_!” Eventually, he was forced to buck his hips up, tossing Itachi off of him. He immediately chased after him, and Itachi tried to fight him off with a fit of laughs, tangling himself in the blankets. Kisame got him still with his arms and legs, got him quiet by pressing his lips firmly against his and swallowing his giggles.

Itachi could barely kiss back because his lips just wouldn’t relax from their stubborn smile.

“I’m trying to kiss on you,” Kisame murmured, pressing his thumb against a laugh tear in the corner of Itachi’s eye. “Stop smiling.”

“Stop smiling? You’re the one that wouldn’t let me stop laughing!”

Kisame grinned a goofy grin. “I love hearing you laugh. It’s the…best sound in the world.”

“Ridiculous,” Itachi chided softly. He pulled Kisame down for more kisses, squashing his urge to smile again, slipping his lips open for Kisame to tease at his tongue. They made out for…several minutes, grasping everywhere from face to ass to neck to hair. They kept it languid, though, Itachi not nearly at the point where he could go again.

It took a surprising (oh, who were they kidding) amount of time to pull their lips off of each other. Itachi hummed. “Now not only are we both filthy, but your sheets are, too.”

“I’ll drag them into the shower with us,” he muttered, scooting off of Itachi so he could have more breathing room.

Itachi pushed over a little, rolling onto his back, and stretched out. “I’m going to be sore tomorrow,” he said, twisting his fingers into the coolness of the white sheets above his head.

“Yeah,” Kisame murmured, stroking his hand over Itachi’s stomach. “Good or bad sore?”

Itachi let out a contented breath. “Good sore,” he said decidedly, moving on hand to link with Kisame’s on his stomach.

Kisame pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “We look damn pretty together,” he said, poking one finger into Itachi’s belly button.

“Oh?”

“Oh. You’re so—pale, and sophisticated looking, and proper. I’m dark and rough around the edges and _im_ proper.” He wiggled his finger. “We’re like yin and yang.”

Itachi snorted, leaning his head back, trying to tease Kisame into playing with his neck. “Yin and Yang? How poetic.”

“Yeah.” Kisame’s grin tilted lopsided. “It must look so good when we fuck.”

“…you ruin every romantic thing you say, you know that?”

Kisame took the bait and pushed his lips forward onto the skin of Itachi’s neck. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Itachi said, sliding his fingers into Kisame’s hair. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

Kisame kissed his neck for several more minutes, silence settling gently between them. Itachi let his eyes slip closed. He massaged a gentle pattern into Kisame’s scalp and brought his other arm up to curl around Kisame’s shoulders. They were still in need of a shower, and Itachi’s sore bottom was aching just a little unpleasantly, but it was so…peaceful. And that’s…what Itachi always strived for.

“Are you nervous?” Kisame murmured quietly, nose bumping the underside of Itachi’s jaw.

“Hmm?”

“About Marcus,” he expanded, pulling back to look Itachi in the face. “About confronting him.”

Itachi let his gaze linger against Kisame’s, eyes calm. He lifted a finger to trace the broad swell of Kisame’s nose. “No, I am not.”

“At all?”

Itachi shook his head slowly. “He can’t do anything to me as long as I don’t let him. And I really…love my life now. I refuse to let anything ruin that.”

A smile (not a grin) slowly started to overtake Kisame’s face. “Yeah…? You love your life?”

Itachi nodded softly. “I do.”

“That’s…that’s real fucking good, Itachi, that’s—that’s really good.”

Itachi’s smile was fond, fingers soft as he caressed Kisame’s cheek tattoos when he said, “But, to be honest, I would love it a lot more if we could shower now.”

“Right, right,” Kisame said, drawing back. He pulled Itachi up and off his back by his wrists, kissing the backs of his hands as he sat up.

Before he let Itachi climb off the bed he took his face in both hands, looking into his (overwhelming, bottomless, _beautiful_ ) dark eyes. “I love you, Itachi.”

Itachi just smiled. “I love you too, my dear.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> adfaasad???
> 
> the drama is gonna end next chapter. woah! confrontation! or whatever the fuck. adf;a;ldkja;fa. 
> 
> Okay LOOK I have this whole non-mass au where Itachi just gets to be Konoha's resident big brother...naruto is like he second brother and just...i want them to be happy so...fuck it im gonna make them family in this you CANT SOTP ME
> 
> Itachi and Sasuke are watching rpdr because...i fucking love rpdr and naruto is down to be a queen (orioke anybody)
> 
> agent gideon is a criminal minds reference
> 
> i genuinely...do not know a single fucking reason why rin appeared to give them brownies suddenly it was just written into my word document
> 
> kisame only has a big dick because it's proportional to how large he is? im not really trying to emphasize it that much or anything. idk.
> 
> There's...one more sex scene next chapter, at least that I have planned--Kisame's demanding when it comes to getting into Itachi's pants. yeesh. ~~the main reason there's one more is because it's itachi's turn to be horny and needy. he is. he just doenst want to show it. he will next chapter.~~
> 
> I think there's two chapters left? two or three? 
> 
> thank god amiright
> 
> this chapter marks 329 pages in microsoft word. i wrote 329 pages of pure shit i can't believe it!!!! lowkey wanna hit 400 tho. think i can with the epilogue.
> 
> sorry that im the worst guys but i really REALLY like it when people tell me what they think about this little thing of mine. so if you have any thoughts (even bad thoughts) i really want to know aand each and every word you say makes me feel less like deleting it all over again lmfao
> 
> I'll see you again for chapter 11! Shit's gonna go down (no its not)
> 
> <3


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